#(I feel like I'm tempting fate at this point) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witchywithwhiskey · 7 months ago

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tempting fate in the CEO's office

pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you visit your boyfriend in his office to show off your new lingerie, and you end up playing a reckless game when he hast to join a conference call—a call that your father will be on.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, creampie, cockwarming, dry humping, little bit of come play, light teasing, choking, light bdsm, semi-public sex, sex with the risk of being caught, exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluff, established relationship

word count: 6,300ish

a/n: ok! this took me ages because i started writing it before moving and it was difficult to get back into it, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out all things considered. this chapter is set in bucky's office because that was what won the poll i posted. it was fun to write, and i already started writing the next chapter, so i hope y'all enjoy!!

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

You’d done a lot of reckless things in your life—like wearing a dress with nothing underneath it to the park, or starting a secret relationship with your father’s biggest business rival—but walking into the busy lower Manhattan office building of CEO Bucky Barnes wearing nothing but a set of lingerie, a long trenchcoat and heels had to top the list.

Still, you didn’t feel any trepidation. Not even as the bottom hem of your jacket fluttered around your thighs, threatening to give anyone in the lobby a peak at the lacy undergarments you’d worn specifically for Bucky. But, though every step was a potential disaster—because if you did flash someone in the lobby your most intimate bits, it would surely get back to your father—you didn’t falter.

The points of your heels clicked confidently against the marble floor of the lobby and a fearless smile curled your lips. You were having fun with your reckless behavior. Excitement and desire fizzled in your belly, making you feel like you were walking on air as you crossed the floor to the elevator bank that would take you up to the C-suite offices, where you knew Bucky would be.

While you rode the elevator, you couldn’t help but think about how Bucky would react when you walked into his office wearing only lingerie and a jacket. You could easily picture the way he’d look at you—his brilliant blue eyes darkening and his mouth curling into a smirk. And you couldn’t wait to tell him that he was the one to buy you the matching set.

He’d given you his black Amex and told you to buy something pretty for yourself, despite the fact that you had plenty of money from your parents. You were your father’s daughter, after all, and he’s given you a generous allowance, even as an adult. But Bucky had insisted you spend his money for a change—so you decided you were going to insist he appreciate the pretty lingerie he’d paid for…while it was on your body.

Your smile deepened as the elevator doors slid open soundlessly and you walked into the lobby of the company’s C-suite, giddy excitement thrumming through your body. You couldn’t wait to see Bucky’s reaction to your outfit, but even more than that, you were excited to see your boyfriend.

It still felt a little strange to think of Bucky as your boyfriend. You’d known him as nothing more than your father’s hot business rival for so long, and your relationship was still so new and covert. Neither of you had told anyone about it yet. Everyone in both your circles of friends knew each other, and they all knew your father, so it was too risky.

But Bucky was your boyfriend, and that knowledge made your heart beat faster in your chest, your smile widening even further.

You were still wearing your slightly goofy smile when you walked up to the desk where Bucky’s secretary sat. She was an older woman with kind eyes, and when you gave your name, recognition dawned in her expression. Her face creased with delicate crinkles as she offered you a genuine smile and waved you into Bucky’s office.

As you were walking past, she made a comment that Bucky had given her strict orders to always allow you into his office. Your goofy, happy smile got even goofier and happier at that bit of information, and you pushed through the door into Bucky’s office.

The first thing that struck you about the space was how warm and cozy it felt despite the fact that two full walls were taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New York City. The whole of Manhattan sprawled out at Bucky’s feet, and you couldn’t help but understand the city’s desire to do so. In your experience, being at Bucky’s feet was an enjoyable place to be.

You bit back a smirk as you looked around the office, taking in the dark wooden furnishings and gold accents. There were plush rugs beneath a small seating area off to one side and another under Bucky’s big desk, giving the space a homey feel that reminded you of his penthouse apartment. The office was professional, but it managed to feel like Bucky, and you couldn’t help but smile at that.

When you turned your attention to the CEO, you found him watching you as you took in his office for the first time. His blue eyes were sparkling and he had a pleased expression on his face.

“Darling,” Bucky rumbled as a greeting, a smile curling the corners of his mouth.

He looked so handsome, wearing a slate gray suit with a black shirt beneath, the colors contrasting with his golden skin and dark brown beard. His blue eyes were two stars in the sky, and his mouth was a charming curve that made you ache to kiss him.

When you didn’t respond—because you were too wrapped up in appreciating the attractiveness of your boyfriend—Bucky leaned back in his leather office chair. His eyes stayed fixed on you, his chin tilting up, and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a king lording over his court.

It made you want to kneel.

Instead, you murmured his name with a smile, “Jamie,” and strolled over to his desk, one hand playing with the belt of your jacket that was keeping it cinched around your waist. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” you asked innocently as you walked around his desk and stepped between his spread legs, your sassy smile making it clear you didn’t care if you were.

Bucky only seemed happy to see you, pushing closer in his chair so his hands could slip around the backs of your bare thighs, making you shiver as he murmured, “Never.”

His head was tilted back a bit to meet your eyes, and his gaze was impossibly soft as he stared at you, making you feel hot and flustered all over—particularly between your thighs. To steady yourself, you slid your arms around his shoulders and ducked down to drop a kiss to his lips, smiling at the slight rasp of his beard. He tasted like coffee.

“Did you have a nice shopping trip?” Bucky asked, his voice quiet and warm in a way that made you want to melt into him. Your fingers idly played with the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck and his smile turned a little mischievous as he asked, “Did you buy yourself something pretty like I asked?”

Impossibly, you’d forgotten the outfit you’d worn into Bucky’s office, but his question reminded you of the lacy lingerie that was hidden beneath your jacket. You smiled like the cat that got the cream and nodded at your boyfriend, fluttering your lashes at him as you asked a question of your own.

“Do you want to see, Jamie?” You leaned back and played with the ends of the belt keeping your jacket tied tight around your body, enjoying the way Bucky’s eyes dipped curiously down to your hands.

His gaze heated, a grin spreading across his face as he slid his hands up from your thighs to your belt. He paused before untying it, flicking his eyes up to yours. When you nodded, Bucky slowly undid the knot, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he parted the jacket to see what you’d been hiding.

The sharp breath Bucky sucked in when he saw the pretty lingerie you wore, your curves swathed in lace that he’d paid for, was immensely satisfying. Bucky pushed the trenchcoat off your shoulders and let it fall to pool at your feet while his eyes roved over your body like they couldn’t get enough.

Then his hands seemed to be everywhere—brushing against the sides of your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your waist, groping your plush hips. He touch you greedily as his eyes seemed to devour your appearance, taking in the way the lingerie clung to your body, the way it framed your breasts and barely covered your mound.

The blue of his eyes had darkened to the color of the ocean by the time he returned his gaze to yours. All he said was, “Darling,” his voice little more than gravel, as if he was overcome by the sight of you in your new matching set. Your breath caught in your throat at the emotion swirling in Bucky’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” he rasped.

A pleased heat spread through your chest, warming your cheeks, and you smiled happily at the sincerity in Bucky’s words. “Thank you, Jamie,” you murmured, ducking down to press another quick kiss to your boyfriend’s lips.

But Bucky caught you around the back of your neck, murmuring, “C’mere,” before reeling you back in and deepening the kiss. He kissed you thoroughly, his hands sliding down your body to the backs of your thighs, and then he was pulling you into his lap, your knees on either side of his legs so you were straddling him in his leather chair.

So much of your bare skin brushed against Bucky’s suit, and though the fabric was soft, it was a reminder of how little clothing you were wearing. You shivered when Bucky’s fingers traced down your spine, pressing you flush to his chest, the lace of your lingerie teasing your nipples deliciously so that you whimpered into his mouth.

By the time Bucky pulled away, your lips were swollen from his kisses and the wetness gathering between your thighs had dripped into your panties. When you squirmed on Bucky’s lap, rubbing your chest against his and enjoying the electric shocks of pleasure to your nipples, you felt his bulge press against your lace-covered core. You couldn’t help the little whine that escaped when you rubbed against the hot, hard length of him.

“Jamie,” you mewled, rocking against Bucky’s bulge, not caring in the least that his secretary was sitting just outside the office door. All that mattered was the way Bucky’s cock twitched when you whimpered his name.

“Darling,” Bucky groaned, pleasure soaking his tone—but there was a warning in his voice, too. When his hands grabbed your hips, he didn’t urge you on like you expected. He forced you to stop. You whined pitifully, leaning back to catch your boyfriend’s eye and pouting up at him. “I’m due on a call any minute,” he explained, a regretful look on his face.

You knew you should leave him to it. Bucky was a busy man, after all, and he needed to work—especially if he was going to buy you more expensive lingerie—which you hoped he would considering his reaction to seeing you in your new matching set. You knew it was still early in the afternoon and you should be content with the few moments you’d stolen of his time already.

But your reckless impulses were too loud to ignore, so instead of sliding off Bucky’s lap and putting your jacket back on, you pressed closer, your soft tits trapped against his hard chest. Your lips brushed the shell of Bucky’s ear as you leaned in, making him shudder beneath you.

“Why does that mean we have to stop?” you asked in a soft, sultry tone. Rolling your hips slowly, you rocked your lace-covered core against your boyfriend’s hard cock in a decadent drag that had both of you letting out little groans. “I’m all dressed up in the pretty lingerie you bought for me, why don’t you let me sit on your lap during your call.”

You nipped at Bucky’s ear before pressing a kiss to his neck just beneath it, enjoying the rumble in his chest as he bit back a moan.

“And since I’m on your lap, why don’t you let me keep your cock warm in my pussy—‘m so warm and wet for you, Jamie, and I promise I’ll be so quiet while you’re on your call.”

Bucky chuckled, both of you knowing full well that you were lying, but he didn’t call you out on it like you expected. Instead, he went a different route, surprising you.

“Are you sure, darling?” he purred, pressing a suckling kiss to the side of your neck that had your head tilting to the side to give him more access. You were so consumed by how good his soft mouth and rough beard felt against your skin that you almost missed his next words. “Every major CEO in the city is going to be on this call—including your father.”

You froze on Bucky’s lap, not even his mouth working against your neck distracting you from what he’d said. Despite your good sense—at least, what little was left of it with Bucky’s bulge pressing between your thighs—you knew you shouldn’t be thinking about tempting fate in a CEO’s office while he was on a call with your father and all their colleagues. But… Well, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t enjoy the thrill the the idea gave you.

And it was that side of you that prompted you to purr in your boyfriend’s ear, “I’m sure, Jamie,” as you melted back against his chest. A wicked smirk curled your lips as you issued a challenge to the CEO, “In fact, I’m sure that if one of us is going to give us away to my father, it won’t be me.”

The chuckle Bucky let out was practically sinister, and your hips squirmed reflexively, grinding your wet slit against his hard cock through your clothes. You managed to hold back the soft moan that wanted to escape, and you were proud of yourself. But then Bucky issued a challenge of his own that had you scurrying.

“Well, then, you’ve got about five minutes to get my cock out, darling,” Bucky said, sounding like he relished giving you a deadline and making you hurry. “Or your sweet moans as I’m stretching out that tight little hole of yours are bound to give you away in an instant.”

Desire flushed hot through your body as you scrambled to reach between your bodies and undo Bucky’s pants. He leaned back in his chair and held your gaze, his blue eyes darkening when you pulled down his zipper, both of you smiling at each other. Reaching into his slacks, you pulled Bucky’s cock free, giving him a quick, appreciative stroke and nearly purring at the velvet-wrapped steel in your hand.

“Hurry, darling,” Bucky drawled, an unrepentant smirk curling his mouth as his eyes went hooded. “Only a few minutes left before I join this call with your father.”

As you lined yourself up with Bucky’s cock, he reached for the phone on his desk. The robotic musical notes of his fingers dialing felt like a ticking clock and your heart beat faster in your chest. Hooking a finger around the lace covering your dripping slit, you pulled your panties to the side so you could sink down on your boyfriend’s hard length.

A loud, filthy moan squeezed free from your lungs, your head tipping back in bliss as you impaled yourself on Bucky’s perfect cock. It felt as exquisite as it always did, Bucky’s thick girth stretching out your tight little hole as he slid inside you. Your moan turned into a high keening sound as you pushed down further on him, the sound filling his office.

The rumble of Bucky’s laughter teased your ears, but as you lifted yourself up only to slide down further on his stiff length, the sound dissolved into a low groan. Lifting your head, you locked eyes with Bucky while you lowered yourself down on the final few inches of his cock, both of you watching each other as your expressions contorted in pleasure. It felt divine to share the moment with Bucky, and it was made all the sweeter with the impending call dangling over your heads.

Your boyfriend wrapped his hand around the front of your throat and reeled you in for a hot, messy kiss, shoving his tongue in your mouth and taking possession of you in a matter of seconds. His lips were demanding, his tongue forceful, and it made all thoughts flee from your mind. You were desire incarnate and you were consumed by the feeling of Bucky inside you, around you, everywhere.

By the time Bucky pulled away, you were panting for more, your hips rocking impatiently on his cock. But Bucky pressed a steadying hand to your lower back, urging you to still, and then he tapped a button on the phone on his desk, his voice drifting past your ear and sounding exactly as he normally did.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Bucky rumbled smoothly, sounding every bit like the polished CEO that he was. Meanwhile, you pressed your mouth against Bucky’s neck to muffle the heavy breaths that you were still dragging in, willing your heart to slow down from its excited pace.

But as you calmed, you were able to take stock of your predicament. You were seated on Bucky’s lap, his cock buried in your cunt while you wore nothing more than lingerie and he was still dressed mostly in his suit. To make matters more complicated, he’d just joined a conference call that your father would also be on. You’d perhaps gone far past tempting fate in the CEO’s office, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that had led you to that moment.

Not when there was some fun to be had with your boyfriend.

While the men on the call greeted each other and talked about their latest golf games, the state of the new Yankees season, and their families—in that order—you focused entirely on Bucky. Looping your arms tighter around his shoulders, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. Your mouth found the pulse point at the side of his throat, just above the collar of his shirt, and you began sucking softly on the spot that you knew would drive him wild before long.

But then your father’s voice sounded from the speaker on Bucky’s phone—the all too familiar sound of him apologizing for being late—and your entire body clenched tight with surprise and more than a little deviant thrill. When your pussy clutched Bucky’s cock hard, it wrung a strangled sound from the boyfriend your father had no idea you had.

“Y’alright there, Barnes?” your father asked jovially, a tiny hint of the ire he actually felt toward his fellow CEO in his tone. Your father may have hated Bucky, but he knew how to keep up appearances. Mostly.

However, if he ever found out about your relationship with Bucky… You shuddered to think about it.

“Yeah,” your boyfriend responded easily, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back that had you relaxing in his arms. “Just some whiskey down the wrong pipe.”

You bit your lip to suppress the urge to make a snarky remark about taking his cock down your pipe and instead listened as the men on the call all chuckled good-naturedly. Your father’s jocular tone cut through the din as it subsided.

“Hope you’re not getting sick, Barnes,” he said, sounding friendly enough. But there was an undercurrent of malice in his words that made it sound like he was actually hoping for the opposite. Then, as you wondered whether everyone on the call could hear the antagonism in your father’s voice, he dropped all pretenses as he commented, “Though I suppose you don’t have to worry about a girlfriend or wife nagging you to get some rest.” He paused for a moment, like he was relishing his next jab. “You can just call one of your bimbos to take care of you, maybe they’ll take pity on you and give you a discount on their hourly rate.”

It took every ounce of your self-control not to groan at your father’s comment, but it seemed at least some of the other CEOs on the call didn’t have as tight a grip on their willpower. Frustrated huffs and annoyed groans sounded from the speaker, and you could’ve sworn you hear someone mutter, “Not this again.”

You nearly snorted at the comment, but kept quiet, kissing Bucky’s neck in reassurance that you didn’t take your father’s words to heart. The decision to keep your relationship a secret from your father was one you’d made together, and you knew those kinds of comments were par for the course for Bucky. After all, he was a hot, rich and presumedly single CEO. Of course your father would make an insinuation that he paid for sex.

But Bucky wasn’t ruffled in the slightest by your father’s dig. If anything, he sank deeper into his plush leather office chair, one of his hands resting possessively against your lower back. Your lips curled and you smirked against Bucky’s neck, nuzzling into him as you felt his cock shift inside you. You squeezed him with your inner walls and he let out a nearly silent snort before responding to your father.

“Don’t worry about me, chief,” he drawled, a little bit of patronizing humor in his tone, especially when he used the nickname to mock your father. “I’m well taken care of.” Bucky’s hand smoothed up and down your spine, making you purr softly in his ear. You could hear the pleased smile in his tone as he went on. “By the way, how’s the family?”

You nearly choked on a laugh, biting down on Bucky’s shoulder through his jacket and shirt to muffle the sound, as your father grumbled and grudgingly muttered, “They’re fine, Barnes, thank you for asking.” His voice was so stiff, and he was so clearly disappointed Bucky hadn’t risen to his bait, that he was clearly trying to save face in front of all the other CEOs.

You smirked to yourself, leaning up so you could murmur in Bucky’s ear, “Mm, some of us are much better than fine.” Your voice was barely a whisper so you knew the men on the call wouldn’t hear, but Bucky squeezed your hip in warning, which only made you snicker softly. In retaliation, you clenched your pussy around his cock, making your boyfriend grunt quietly.

Bucky’s other hand wrapped around your throat and he gently pushed you back until you were able to see his face. You’d half expected him to be glaring at you for trying to get him to make a noise that would get the attention of the call, but you should’ve known your boyfriend better—he was just as reckless as you.

Instead of a glare, Bucky’s expression was one of amusement, his blue eyes dancing with mischief and his mouth curved into a smirk that you wanted to lick right off his face. “You’re playing with fire, darling,” Bucky mouthed, but there was no real warning in his words. If anything, it made you want to try harder to get him to make a sound that would get the attention of the other CEOs.

As the business part of the conference call finally began, Bucky made a show of settling back into his chair, reclining his head and giving you a challenging look. An impish smile curled your lips and you rolled your hips. You watched Bucky’s eyes droop in pleasure, his mouth falling open on a silent moan, and a shiver raced down your spine as you began riding his cock.

You’d intended to torture him by slowly rising up and sinking back down on his hard length, but your boyfriend looked too delicious just sitting there with that smirk on his face. You ducked forward, flicking your tongue against the corner of his mouth, biting back a moan as you tasted him. His beard rasped against your tongue and a burning need flared to life in your chest. You trailed your mouth along his jaw, biting into his beard like you wanted to devour him whole.

All the while, you rocked your hips as fast as you dared, which wan’t nearly fast enough. Bucky felt good inside you, but your every movement, your every breath was restrained. It made everything hotter, but it also meant you couldn’t truly let yourself give in to the pleasure of him.

You needed more, you needed Bucky to fuck you.

Whimpering into Bucky’s beard to muffle the sound, you whined his name in the quietest voice you could manage, “Jamie.”

Bucky’s hand slipped around the front of your throat, his fingers digging into the sides in a way that made you clench around his cock, your lips parting in a silent moan. Pressing his mouth to your ear, he growled, “Hush, darling, or do you want me to make you be quiet?”

It took you the briefest of seconds to answer his question, your hips bouncing on his lap as you chanted, “Make me, sir, make me.”

“Perfect, filthy girl,” Bucky rumbled in your ear moments before he was standing up and laying you down on his desk as soundlessly as possible.

All the men on the conference call heard were the rustling of papers, which you knew wouldn’t be out of place, and you had to bite your lip to stop from giggling. Your head was close to the speaker phone and you glanced at it before looking back at Bucky, a challenge in the way you narrowed your eyes and smirked at him.

Your boyfriend grinned and mouthed the words, “Be quiet, darling,” before pressing a finger to his lips. Then he pulled his hips back and slammed forward, burying his cock in your slick cunt so forcefully, you had to slap both your hands over your mouth to stop from moaning.

Between one breath and the next, Bucky’s hand was around your throat, pinning you to the hard wooden desk beneath you, his fingers squeezing into the sides of your neck and cutting off all any sound that could even think to dare escaping your lips. Your eyes popped open and you stared up at your boyfriend, spreading your legs wide so he could push deeper into your cunt, the tip of his cock grinding against a spot inside you that made you gush with arousal.

Your face was slack with pleasure, your mouth hanging open as you sucked in tiny, silent breaths, your eyes heavy-lidded as you kept your gaze fixed on Bucky above you. He felt so good inside you, so perfect, his hand around your throat choking you and heightening every sensation in your body.

When you heard Bucky’s name come through the phone, you nearly wailed in protest that someone would try to steal your boyfriend’s attention from you. But Bucky never relented, never stopped fucking you or choking you, slowly pushing you toward your release while he responded to the men on the phone with an even voice. You were too far gone to pay attention to what was being said, but Bucky seemed to know what he was saying, so you left him to it and instead focused on the unrelenting pleasure of his cock.

Eventually, you registered that Bucky was offering his farewells to the CEOs on the other end of the line, and you realized the conference call was coming to an end. If you’d been able to make any sound, you would’ve squeaked happily. Bucky reached across your body and hung up the phone.

Then your boyfriend was curling over you, his face close to yours, his expression twisting into one of depraved delight as he started pounding into you harder, faster, fucking you ruthlessly on his desk.

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” he growled, the arousal in his voice making him sound even more gravelly than normal. “Did you enjoy getting fucked on my desk while every CEO in New York City—including your father, who hates me—was on the phone?”

Bucky’s hand around your throat relented enough for you to speak, but you didn’t have any words left in your brain. Not when you could hear the wet sounds of your cunt while he fucked you. All you could do was moan, long and loud, the sound swirling around the two of you and filling the massive space of the luxurious office.

“You’re a temptress, the filthiest fucking girl I’ve ever met,” Bucky rasped, dragging his mouth along your jaw and nipping at your skin as he fucked you harder, grinding against your clit with every thrust. “You’re fucking perfect—you were so good for me, darling, taking my cock so well and staying so quiet for me.”

“Jamie,” you whined, carding your fingers through his soft brown hair and tugging his mouth to yours for a messy kiss. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” you babbled into his mouth, sucking on his tongue and driving him to pound into you relentlessly while you whimpered at how good it felt to finally make some noise.

“I know, I know,” Bucky rumbled in a warm, pleased tone, and you felt him smirk against your cheek. “My cock feels so good in your tight cunt, doesn’t it, darling?” He rocked into you, hitting that spot inside you and grinding against your clit at the same time, making you cry out sharply. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said, chuckling huskily in your ear.

If it didn’t feel so good, you might’ve hit him, but the pleasure coiling tight in your body had you too wound up to care. Thankfully, your boyfriend had no interest in making you wait to come. In fact, he was eager for it as well.

“Mm, you’ve been so good for me,” Bucky rumbled, keeping up that impossibly perfect pace of his thrusts. “Come on my cock, darling, want to feel you milking me with your perfect pussy.”

His words washed over you at the same moment that he thrust deep inside and you were helpless to resist the pleasure. Your release crashed over you, Bucky’s hand squeezing your throat in time to choke off the scream that wanted to be let loose. Instead, your mouth opened wide on the silent sound and your body clenched tight, your back arching up off the desk as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you.

“That’s it, darling, fuck,” Bucky growled, fucking you through your release, his voice going tight as your cunt clenched down hard on his cock. “Gonna come deep in this perfect pussy, and send you home with my come dripping into your new panties,” he rumbled, his thrusts turning wild as he rutted into your still fluttering core. “You’re gonna wait for me in my penthouse, and when I get home, I’m fucking you again in your pretty new lingerie. Gonna show you how much I love seeing you covered in lace and dripping my come.”

Impossibly, your deeply satisifed body tightened in excitement at your boyfriend’s words, and you suddenly couldn’t wait for what he promised. The fact that you’d never been to his penthouse without him was the furthest thing from your mind in that moment.

“Jamie,” you cried softly before you pulled him down for another kiss. Your legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs and you held him inside you so he could only grind into your cunt. The sounds your bodies made were lewd and obscene, but they were drowned out by the pleasured moans coming from your mouths as you devoured each other.

A moment later, Bucky wrenched free from your mouth as he came with a loud groan. His cock twitched inside you while he filled you up with his warm, sticky come, and all you could do was smile dazedly. Your bodies writhed together as you eked out as much pleasure from your releases as possible, your mouths finding each other again and kissing to muffle your whimpers and groans.

Together, you caught your breath, and finally settled. Bucky pulled back to stare down at you, a pleased smirk curling one side of his mouth. Then he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You grabbed his face and held him close, kissing the hell out of him while his cock softened inside you.

As you continued making out on your CEO boyfriend’s desk, you heard Bucky open and close a drawer. But it wasn’t until he pulled away and held up a key that you saw what he’d procured from the drawer. You stared at the little scrap of metal, the magnitude of what it meant making you suddenly uncertain.

You gave Bucky a questioning look. He smiled affectionately down at you, brushing a kiss to your cheek before explaining.

“It’s a key to my penthouse,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “I want you to have it.”

Your eyes widened when he confirmed your suspicions, and though you wanted to reach for the key, you held back. “Are you sure, Jamie?” you asked, trying and failing to hide the waver in your voice. You tried to cover it up by barreling on, “We haven’t even told anyone we’re together.” When Bucky just watched you patiently, you tried for a joke. “What about all your bimbos?”

As soon as the words were past your lips, you wanted to take them back, and you slapped a hand over you mouth as if you could actually stuff the question back into your mouth. It shamed you that you’d repeated your father’s dig at Bucky, but before you could apologize, your boyfriend was carefully prying your hand away from your mouth so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“You and I both know there never have, and never will be any bimbos in my life,” Bucky murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. He was so close, you had to close your eyes, which was a relief because there were suddenly tears swimming in them. “You also know that we decide how we want our relationship to move forward and when we want to tell our families.” He let out a soft exhale. “If you want to tell them before we take this step, just say the word, darling.”

With your eyes closed and Bucky’s warm skin pressing against yours, his familiar and comforting scent filling your nose, you let yourself think about it. You knew you’d have to tell your father about your relationship with Bucky eventually. After all, every time you pictured your future, he was a part of it. But you weren’t quite ready yet. You were still having too much fun with just you and Bucky knowing about your relationship.

“Not yet,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

“OK,” he said before giving you a reassuring kiss. “Will you take the key?”

You gave Bucky’s question the thought it deserved and realized you liked the idea of having a key to his place. There were nights when you couldn’t see him because you’d already gone home to your brownstone in Brooklyn before he’d gotten out of a late meeting. If you had a key to his place—and carte blanche from his secretary to go into his office—then you could see him whenever you wanted.

You liked that idea. You liked that idea a lot.

But, because you were you, you couldn’t give Bucky a simple answer. So instead, you said, “I don’t really have a lot of pockets in this outfit.”

Bucky pulled back and you opened your eyes to find your boyfriend grinning down at you, happiness sparkling in his blue eyes. You watched as those eyes darkened while he tucked the key into your bra. When the cool metal brushed against your nipple, you gasped quietly, your body clenching lightly around his half-hard cock.

“Your new lingerie is pretty and comes in handy, darling,” Bucky commented lightly, bending down to kiss you as he eased himself from your body. He swallowed your groan, then stood up and smoothed your panties back over your pussy. He stared hungrily at the juncture of your thighs and you wondered if your combined releases were already leaving a wet spot.

Before you could ask, Bucky shook himself and he turned his focus to helping you up from his desk. He made sure the key stayed securely in your bra, tweaking your nipple in the process, then stooped to grab your jacket. He held it open for you to step into, then tied the belt tightly around your waist. Last, he pulled you in for a kiss.

“I’ll be back this evening,” he murmured against your lips. “Make yourself at home, darling.” His words were nearly a purr and you shivered in delight at just how much you enjoyed hearing them.

You were excited to spent the rest of the afternoon luxuriating in everything Bucky’s penthouse had to offer—maybe you’d even ask the concierge for some ice cream and cones—but when you pulled away from your boyfriend, you suddenly felt bereft. Your heart panged in your chest and you gave Bucky a bittersweet smile.

“It won’t feel like home until you get there,” you said softly, pushing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. “So hurry home, Jamie.”

Bucky’s hands flexed on your hips, like he was struggling to let you go, but finally you eased away from him and his hands dropped to his sides. Reluctantly, you turned and began walking across Bucky’s office. At the door, you paused and looked back.

Bucky was still staring at you like he didn’t want to let you leave, but you’d both had enough of tempting fate in the CEO’s office for one afternoon. You gave him one last smile and waved, the key to his penthouse warming against your skin as you slipped out. You comforted yourself with the knowledge that you’d get to see Bucky later.

As you walked past Bucky’s secretary’s empty desk to the elevator, all you could think was that you had a key to your boyfriend’s apartment. You had a key to your boyfriend’s penthouse apartment—and you couldn’t wait for him to come home to you that night.

Maybe, eventually, he’d come home to you every night.

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #ceo bucky barnes #ceo!bucky barnes #ceo au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan characters #witchywithwhiskeywork

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imaginespazzi · 5 months ago

Text

Part 6: To Trying Again

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

I don't wanna mess this thing up (I don't wanna push too far)

(In which an "evil" writer might surprise you guys just a little bit with this part)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 5.6K

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Happy Monday lovelies! This is sort of a filler-ish short chapter though I do think it's important to both plot and character development. I'd like to preface this by saying I've never been to Minsk or Park Pieramohi so I'm very much going off of pictures. Editing and I remain on very, very bad terms so pretty please let me know of typos so I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

July 2018

“You’re being too loud,” Azzi whisper-screams at the blonde girl in front of her as she closes the door to her room behind her with a little too much force.

Paige turns her head back every-so-slightly with a pronounced eye roll, “will you please relax.”

“I would if you’d just be a little more careful,” Azzi glares, taking cautious steps as if the sound of her sneakers across the carpeted floor could potentially wake up any of the coaches.

“Azzi,” Paige says exasperatedly, “the coaches are all the way on the other end of the hallway. Besides, they're probably all sleeping.”

And despite her stubbornness, Azzi can concede that Paige has a point there. It’s nearly midnight and the game against Spain earlier in the day might have had a final score that made it seem like the USA U17 women's basketball team had won handily, but the game itself had been draining to say the least. The post-victory dinner had featured a bunch of worn out teenagers gobbling their food without much conversation and a cohort of coaches who seemed like they needed an hour of drinking followed by good night’s sleep. But even the exhaustion of the day hadn’t been enough to prevent Paige Bueckers and her diabolical mind from coming up with the idea to sneak out into the city of Minsk.

“No,” Azzi had said immediately even before the words had been spoken, that shimmering glint in Paige’s eyes a dead giveaway as she sidled up to Azzi at the salad bar.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Paige had pouted.

“You never say anything good.”

“That’s crazy. You’re so mean to me.”

“So mean,” Azzi had nodded in agreement, “so how about you go and bother someone else.”

“Azzi please. We haven’t had just Paige and Azzi time in ages. Don’t want someone else. Just want you.”

And after that well, there wasn’t really any chance of saying no. Azzi’s only fifteen and she doesn’t know that much about love, but sometimes when Paige looks at her with those earnest blue eyes and a smile that promises i’ll always be here, she thinks the way her heart starts to flutter erratically to a beat of and i wouldn’t want anyone else to stay, might just be the start of her finding out.

“See,” Paige grins triumphantly as the two girls find their way out of their hotel and onto the street, “told you we wouldn’t get caught. Shit’s just too damn easy.”

Azzi rolls her eyes at the attitude, “don’t tempt fate.”

“Fate’s got nothing in front of Paige Bueckers. I make my own fate,” Paige winks as she links her arms through Azzi.

It��s a mundane amount of contact, absolutely nothing special to it, but Azzi feels herself shiver in spite of the humidity that’s circling around them. She doesn’t quite know how it happened. One moment she was staring across the court, judging the skinny blonde practicing free throws and coming to the conclusion that she’d be no threat; the next moment said girl was next to her on the plane back from Argentina and Azzi, a self-admitted introvert, found herself rattling off about everything and nothing with this girl who seemed to have discovered the keys to all of Azzi’s locks. Hours of talking had bled into days and days had bled into months and despite the fact that facetime had taken the place of in-person conversations, the word friendship had seemed too cavalier a word to describe the relationship Paige and Azzi were building.

Paige had whittled away all of Azzi’s carefully constructed armor until she was buried deep underneath her skin and Azzi’s sure there’s no knife in the world sharp enough to carve the blonde out from where she lives underneath Azzi’s ribcage. Azzi doesn’t want anyone to try and dig her out. She thinks she might bleed out if they do.

“Az,” Paige whines, waving her free hand in the younger girl’s face, “are you even paying attention to me?”

“That depends,” Azzi hums, “are you saying anything interesting?”

“I’m always saying something interesting.”

“You’re always saying something. The interesting is subjective,” Azzi teases, laughing when Paige pouts.

“I sneak you out to give you an adventure and this is how you repay me? With insults?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her heart.

“Walking boring streets is not an adventure. Virginia has streets too.”

“It’s not about the streets, it’s about where the streets lead to,” Paige says with grave seriousness.

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “are you entering your philosopher Paige era?”

“I’d make a good philosopher,” Paige waggles her own eyebrows as they two girls find themselves entering park Pieramohi.

“Virginia has parks too, you know Paige?” Azzi says skeptically.

Paige lets out a dramatic sigh, “will you just keep walking, woman. Sometimes I wonder if you even like me?”

It’s said like a joke but there’s a hint of insecurity beaded into it that buzzes in Azzi’s ears as she wraps a careful hand around Paige’s wrist, stopping the two of them where they are.

“Hey,” she whispers softly, nudging the older girl, “you don’t ever have to wonder with me. I’m always gonna like you Paige. Even if you’re a pain in my ass half the time.”

“Had to ruin it with the last part, didn't you?” Paige complains but her eyes twinkle at the reassurance, “Just so you know I’m gonna be a pain in your ass forever.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Azzi promises as they continue strolling through the park.

The silence is peaceful and the breeze that flows around them is like a comforting hug. And Azzi thinks that she’d be okay if there wasn’t a destination for them to get to, as long as the journey came with Paige by her side.

“We’re almost there,” Paige says slowly, a slightly nervous edge to her voice.

“You sure you’re not just getting us lost-” the teasing quip dies on Azzi’s tongue as she stares at the scenery in front of her. They’re standing on the edge of a bridge overlooking a lake and it looks like something out of a disney fairytale; the picturesque image of green trees silhouetted against a magically starry night is captured perfectly on the still surface of the water that’s flowing beneath. As Azzi peers across the railing, Paige right next to her, she feels her breath hitch at the reflection that peers up at her. Because the view in front of them is beautiful but Paige’s eyes are on Azzi and she’s staring at her as if the view is nothing in comparison.

“C’mon,” the blonde says softly, lacing her fingers through Azzi’s as she tugs her along, “I have a plan.”

“There’s more?” Azzi asks in awe as Paige guides her to the gazebo in the middle of the bridge.

“Just a little bit,” Paige says and oh- that shy smile is different. Azzi doesn’t think she’s seen that one yet and she makes a mental note to herself, to memorize it and store it along with all of Paige’s other smiles that make Azzi’s insides swoop like a rollercoaster.

She watches intently as Paige begins to peruse through the purple rucksack she’d been carrying. The first thing out of it is a picnic blanket and then a horde of different snacks, all of Azzi’s favorites. Two plastic champagne glasses are next and then a sheepish grin as Paige pulls out a bottle of soda.

“Couldn’t quite risk trying to get alcohol,” Paige scratches at her neck.

“Next time maybe,” Azzi shrugs as she helps Paige set up the arrangement and she feels herself fluttering at the thought of doing this again and again and again.

“How’d you even find this place?” she asks as Paige begins to pour out the soda.

“You ever heard of googling?”

Azzi rolls her eyes at Paige’s teasing smirk, “how’d you even have time to do this?”

Paige is quiet for a second as she passes Azzi her glass, “wanted to do something special for us,” she says quietly, keeping her eyes intently on what she’s doing as she pours out a drink for herself, “wasn’t hard to find time for you.”

“You could be a poet, Paige Bueckers,” Azzi whispers and she knows it’s unfair of her but she thinks it anyway. As long as all your poems are about me.

“The poets are lucky I chose a ball instead of a pen. They’d be out of a job otherwise,” Paige says, trying to ease back into the more familiar arrogance.

“Always so humble,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes as she holds up her glass, “alright what are toasting to?”

“I came up with this whole thing. You can come up with a toast,” Paige scrunches her nose and Azzi shakes her head at it.

She thinks for a second before smiling brightly at the girl in front of her, “let’s just keep it simple and toast to us.”

“How original,” Paige teases but she clinks her glass against Azzi’s anyways, “here’s to us.”

“Here’s to us,” Azzi repeats as they both take sips of soda.

They melt into a comfortable silence, relishing in this rare moment where there isn’t a screen separating them from each other. Facetimes is a wonderful creation but a blurry screen, Azzi decides, doesn’t nearly do justice to just how damn pretty Paige is. Her hair is golden as it basks in the glow of the moon and Azzi wonders if the stars are jealous of how brilliantly the blonde’s blue eyes twinkle.

It’s Paige who speaks first, her voice hesitant, “you uh- you never asked me how my date went a couple of weeks ago.”

Azzi feels her whole body go rigid. She’d almost forgotten about Paige’s wretched date. The blonde had told her about it a couple of days before the actual event and Azzi had played the dutiful role of a best friend, teasing Paige with a light-heartedness she didn’t feel and congratulating her with an excitement that came from anywhere but from the heart. She’d purposely avoided Paige’s calls the day of the date and then two days after, coming up with some sorry excuse she no longer remembers. On the third day, when the hollow ache of i miss her voice in her chest had become too hard to ignore, Azzi had finally picked up the phone and diverted the conversation straight to a different topic. She hadn’t thought of the date since.

“Guess it slipped my mind,” she says airily, fingers gripping the edge of the picnic blanket.

“I could tell you about it now,” Paige says slowly.

I’d rather you didn’t, Azzi thinks but that’s a thought that veers a little too out of the sphere of best-friend-isms and so she simply nods her head, “y-yeah tell me about it. How was it?”

“It was nice,” Paige begins and there’s something hidden in her tone that Azzi can't quite place but she’s a little too busy sulking at the idea of Paige with anybody else to try and decipher it, “dinner was good. Took her to a movie after. That was good too.”

“That’s cool P. I’m glad- I’m glad you had fun,” Azzi says nonchalantly, gripping the glass in her hands just a little too tight.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t really have that much fun,” Paige clarifies and Azzi gawks at her in confusion as the older girl fidgets with the frayed edges of the picnic blankets, “just didn’t- didn’t feel right. Don’t think she had much fun either. She never texted me after.”

“What a bitch,” Azzi bites out, suddenly irrationally angry at a girl she’d never met because how could anyone possibly not have fun with Paige, “I’m sorry P. You deserve-”

“I didn’t care that she didn’t text back-”

“Still. It’s just the decent thing to do,” Azzi rants.

“Maybe,” Paige shrugs, “but I didn’t have time to care about that. I had other things on my mind. Like the fact that you weren’t talking to me.”

Azzi flinches at the accusation, rushing out her previous defense, “I was busy.”

“Bullshit,” Paige sneers.

“Paige-”

“But I get it,” the older girl says softly as she reaches for Azzi’s hand, tugging the brunette closer to her and Azzi feels something inside her erupt at how close their faces are, “I probably wouldn’t have talked to you for two days either if you went on a date with someone else.”

“Oh,” Azzi breathes out and there’s probably something more eloquent she should say but there’s this realization of maybe you feel it too that’s beginning to creep up her spine, rendering her speechless as Paige continues to stare at her like she’s mapping out all the tiniest details of Azzi’s face.

“The whole date, I kept thinking how you wouldn’t order what she ordered off the menu or that you would probably hit my hand if I tried to steal something off your plate but then give it to me anyway. And that the movie would never have been so quiet with you and we’d probably get yelled at for giggling too much and I-” Paige pauses, dragging in a deep breath, “I definitely would’ve kissed you at the end.”

A sigh of relief escapes Azzi’s lips, “you didn’t kiss her.”

“No,” Paige confirms as she drops her forehead against Azzi’s, “but I-,” the blonde gulps nervously and Azzi can’t help the way her hand reaches up to caress the blush forming on Paige’s cheeks.

“Ask me,” she whispers.

“I really want to kiss you,” Paige confesses, voice shaking slightly, “can I kiss you?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, choosing to reply instead by pressing her lips softly against Paige’s. They move slowly at first, testing each other’s boundaries and savoring their first taste of each other. Azzi pulls the older girl onto her lap, hands firmly on Paige’s hips as the other girl clasps her own hands around Azzi’s neck. It’s a little messy and uncoordinated and Azzi thinks they might need to practice a little more to really get it right but still, it’s everything.

And Azzi just knows

She knows it then just the way she knew Tim was meant to be her dad. The way she knew Jon and José were meant to be her brothers. The way she knew she was meant to play basketball. Azzi knows that she’s meant to fall hopelessly in love with Paige Bueckers.

March 2033

There are three things Azzi should do.

Push Paige away

Tell her this a bad idea

Run the fuck away

She does none of the above.

Instead Azzi kisses Paige back.

And it’s still everything. Like the sun and moon are colliding and creating something so insanely powerful; something that feels so eternal.

There’s nothing soft or slow about it as Paige presses every inch of herself into Azzi until she can feel Paige’s heartbeat as strongly as she can feel her own. It might be impossible but she swears their hearts are talking to each other, tapping out rhythms against each other’s chests that confess all the things their owners are too scared to say. And Azzi wants nothing more than to lose herself completely in the moment because Paige’s lips feel like a drug and Azzi thinks she might just be an addict in relapse.

Except to relapse, you need to have recovered. And Azzi doesn’t think she ever fully recovered from Paige.

It isn’t until she feels her back hit the edge of a desk and the sound of something crashing onto the floor infiltrates her ears, that Azzi finally comes to her senses. She tears her lips away from Paige as the older woman groans in protest, arms tightening their hold on Azzi’s waist so she can still have some semblance of control over the situation. And really Azzi knows she’s strong enough to escape Paige’s grip, could easily fight it if she wanted to. But well, she doesn’t want to. And Azzi’s tired of doing things she doesn’t want to do.

“Paige-”

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘we can’t do this’, Azzi I swear to god I’m going to kill you,” Paige threatens, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s.

Azzi laughs softly and she can feel Paige’s whole body relax at the sound of it and like clockwork, she feels the tension beginning to release from her own muscles, “if you kill me then we definitely can’t do this.”

“I’ll revive you after or something,” Paige says with a half-smirk.

“Or something,” Azzi rolls her eyes, “but we can’t-”

“Azzi,” Paige groans.

“We can’t do this right now and definitely not here,” Azzi amends, alluding to the fact that they’re still in Steph’s office.

Paige raises an eyebrow, cocking her head slightly, “but we can do this later? Somewhere else?”

The question lingers between them as Azzi bites her lip. She knows what this is, knows that it’s Paige putting the ball in her court. A ‘no’ would likely be the end of things and that scares her more than she’s willing to admit but she’s not quite ready to commit to a ‘yes’ yet, even if that flame of desire inside of her, the one that can only be lit by Paige, is blazing hot through her veins.

“I don’t know,” Azzi says carefully, shivering at the way Paige’s thumb is rubbing circles against her waist, the flimsy material of her shirt doing nothing to prevent the goosebumps forming on her skin, “TBD.”

“That’s not a no,” Paige says carefully, hope blossoming freely on her face.

“That’s not a yes either,” Azzi warns half-heartedly.

“But it’s not a no,” Paige presses.

“No,” Azzi admits, playing with the neckline of Paige’s shirt, “it’s not a no.”

And Azzi’s so scared of the future, scared that if she lets herself burn, she’ll incinerate everyone around her but there’s something in the way Paige smiles at her words. Something that feels a lot like a promise of i’ll be the rain that washes out the fire before you can turn us to ashes.

“I can work with that,” Paige says softly, tilting Azzi’s chin up.

“So desperate to get back into my pants Bueckers,” Azzi teases and she expects a witty remark in return but instead she’s met with nothing but sincerity.

“So desperate to get back into your life,” Paige whispers, voice cracking on the last two words.

Tears prickle against Azzi’s waterline as she stares in awe at the girl in front of her. Sometimes she thinks Paige doesn’t even know that there’s a halo of goodness sitting above her head, doesn't even know just how beautiful her soul is. Paige is stunning on the outside; it’s something no one can deny. But it’s nothing compared to how gorgeous she is on the inside, nothing compared to how kind, how humble, how forgiving Paige is.

“Why?” Azzi asks, her tone rife with heaviness.

“Why what?”

“After everything, after all this time, why would you still want to be in my life?” the tears fall harder as Azzi struggles to breathe, “I- I broke your heart. I broke us. How could you possibly want that again. How could you possibly want me again?”

Paige's eyes soften as she cups Azzi’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away at the drops of water running down them, “because you’re Azzi. My Azzi. And I get it- I get that you’re not ready to be all in on this with me yet and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not completely ready either. But we can work on it right? Take it slow and see where it goes and maybe we’ll- maybe we’ll be even better this time.”

“You think so?”

“I believe so.”

Azzi presses her lips delicately against Paige’s, reveling in the way it makes Paige’s breath hitch. She pulls away faster than she would like herself and Paige chases her lips, eyes still closed.

“What was that for,” the blonde asks, slightly dazed.

“For being my Paige.”

***

Azzi taps her foot impatiently against her wooden patio as she glances at her phone clock for the umpteenth time. Paige is almost twenty minutes late to pick her and Stephie up to go to dinner at her parent’s house. The invites had technically been separate but Paige had insisted that they needed to go together because Paige didn’t want to walk into the house alone. Azzi’s not sure why Paige is nervous to see her dad and brothers again, not when she’s pretty sure they’re bursting with excitement to see the blonde whose pictures still have a permanent place on the family photo wall, but if Paige wants Azzi by her side, well she’s not going to say no. Not anymore.

It’s been a week since they’d agreed to take things slow and Azzi’s still not quite sure what exactly that means, but she thinks she likes it. She likes being able to call Paige and not having to come up with a lame excuse for why. She likes that she and Paige can take Stephie out for ice cream after Curry Camp and they don’t have to pretend they’re only tolerating each other’s presence for the little girl’s sake. She likes that they can brush their pinkies while walking and instead of jolting away, they simply just link them together. There’s boundaries of course. No sleepovers at either of their houses. No doing anything more than kissing. No kissing in front of anyone else and definitely no kissing in front of Stephie. No doing anything in front of Stephie really. And there’s still so much mountain left to climb but as long as they’re pushing up it together, Azzi doesn’t think there’s any incline steep enough to stop her from continuing up this path.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals as Paige’s car rounds the corner into Azzi’s driveway.

Paige steps out of the car, arms wide open and ready to catch Stephie as the little girl goes tumbling down the front porch, aiming straight for the blonde. Azzi’s not an artist by any means but if she was, she thinks she could paint a thousand pictures of Stephie and her Miss Buecks. It terrifies Azzi a little bit, just how perfectly Stephie fits into Paige’s side but it calms her too because there’s a part of her that’s in love with how much they love each other.

“You’re late Bueckers,” Azzi chides as she follows her daughter’s path down the patio stairs.

Paige grins, shifting Stephie on her lap as she opens the side door to her car to pull out two bouquets of flowers

“Will these make up for it?” she asks slyly as she hands the larger one, an assortment of pink flowers, to Azzi and a slightly smaller bouquet of purple hydrangeas to Stephie.

“These are so pretty Miss Buecks,” Stephie gushes before pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek left cheek and Paige beams at the compliment, “thank you Miss Buecks.”

“You took that long to get flowers?” Azzi asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, “you’re supposed to thank someone when they give you a gift.”

“Yeah Azzi,” Paige’s eyes glimmer with mirth, “thank me like Stephie thanked me. Don’t you think Mama owes me a kiss on the cheek Steph?”

Azzi narrows her eyes at the scheming pair in front of her as Stephie nods animatedly at Paige’s question, “yeah Mama you owe Miss Buecks a kiss on the cheek.”

Shaking her head, Azzi walks over to Paige taking deliberately steady steps. Slowly Azzi leans in, puckering her lips. Paige closes her eyes and Azzi winks at Stephie who’s eyes widen.

“I’m waiting,” Paige sing-songs, a self-satisfied smirk taking over her features.

And instead of the promised kiss, Azzi licks a sloppy strip down Paige’s cheek and the blonde shrieks as both Azzi and Stephie burst into laughter.

“EW AZZI GROSS,” Paige whines, hurriedly rubbing her shirt against her cheek, “is this what you’re teaching your daughter?”

“I’m teaching my daughter not to let anyone manipulate her,” Azzi says, giving Paige a careful look, “now why were you late?”

Paige grins sheepishly as she opens the door to the backseat of the door. A lavender car seat is placed on the left side of the car and Azzi feels her heart lurch with no one’s ever cared like this.

“It’s pu-ple,” Stephie claps excitedly, “is it for me?”

“Of course it is,” Paige confirms, booping Stephie’s nose before looking at Azzi, “it’s just- we uh- we always have to take your car cause it has the car seat and moving it between cars is such a hassle. So I just thought- you know- I just thought it’d be cool- useful- practical- if I had one too? And this way if you ever need me to take Stephie off you then I uh- then you don’t have to worry about me driving. I don’t- I don’t really knows much about car seats but I looked it up online before and the person at the store agreed that this is definitely the best one- like I swear it’s safe-”

She’s cut off by the feel of Azzi’s lips pressed to her cheeks.

“Thank you Paige.”

***

Just as Azzi expected, Paige merges herself back into the Fudd family with the same ease she’d first had when she’d carved out a place for herself almost a decade and a half ago. It’s a little emotional at first when Tim opens the door, a smile almost as big as him decorating his face as he pulls Paige into a hug even before she can say a word.

“Welcome home kid,” he whispers into her blonde hair and Azzi doesn’t have to see Paige’s face to know that her best friend is blinking away tears.

Guilt surges in Azzi’s stomach and she tries to swallow away the lump of i took this from her that’s blocking her throat. It had been so simple at 15 to give Paige a part of her world; Azzi hadn’t thought twice about it. And then with the snap of her fingers, she’d taken that world away. She knows her parents had never cut Paige out; hell they’d been at her wedding to some other woman -and Azzi had pushed them to go knowing Paige would need it- but it was a far cry from what they’d been. A far cry from when Paige’s schedule was a key factor while planning Fudd family summers.

“Hey,” Stephie pouts, tiny hands crossed over her small body “I thought you always gave me the first hug Pops.”

“We’ll make an exception today,” Tim says with a wink before letting Paige walk into Katie’s arms and spinning his granddaughter around, “but you’re always gonna be my favorite.”

“I better be,” Stephie threatens and the adults around her laugh.

And finally it’s Azzi's turn to be pulled into one of her dad’s patent bear hugs. She goes willingly, always at her most warmest in the arms of the man whose blood might not run through her veins, but whose love had always protected her from the cruelties of the world.

“You look really happy today sweetheart,” Tim says softly.

Azzi’s eyes flitter over her father’s shoulder to where Jon and José are embroiling Paige in a group hug with Stephie in the middle of it, screaming about finally having their “white sister” back, as Katie and José’s fiancé Tallulah roll their eyes at the group of them, and she can’t help but smile into her dad’s shirt, “I feel pretty happy today.”

***

“You cheated,” Jon yells.

“Miss Buecks does not cheat,” Stephie yells back loyally.

“Don’t get into this Stephie. You don’t know her like we do,” José glares at Paige who narrows her eyes at him, “she’s been stealing from the bank.”

“Miss Buecks does not steal,” Stephie defends again, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck from behind as the blonde presses a quick kiss against Stephie’s temple.

“It’s okay Stephie,” Paige reassures, gently swinging the little girl into her lap, “some people are just sore losers.”

“Can’t be a sore loser because I didn’t lose-” José coughs and Jon corrects himself immediately, “because we didn’t lose.”

“Y’all let it go,” Tallulah groans, leaning her head back against the sofa, “it’s literally just monopoly. Please, I'm so tired.”

“Just monopoly? JUST MONOPOLY?” José guffaws dramatically, “I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who doesn’t understand that it isn’t just monopoly Tallulah. It’s about liars and cheats and honor-”

“Miss Buecks has plenty of honor,” Stephie says stubbornly, leaning her head back against Paige’s chest.

Jon rounds on Azzi, who’s been silently watching the situation, “did you help her cheat?”

“Excuse me?” Azzi asks, glaring at her brother from where she’s been comfortable reclining on the sofa. She’d opted to be the banker instead of playing, content just handing out money to the rest of them while watching the game unfold. But really she hadn’t been paying much attention to anyone else but her daughter and Paige. Stephie didn’t quite understand the rules yet and so she was always on someone’s team. It had been a given tonight, that of course she would be with Paige. And Azzi had watched, trying not to be too obvious, with a foolish grin on her face, as her two favorite people whispered to each other, Paige listening intently to all of Stephie’s ideas whether they were good or bad.

“Oh good point,” José turns to look at Azzi too, “you’re the banker, did you help Paige cheat?”

“Mama would never cheat,” Stephie argues defiantly as Azzi pushes herself up from the sofa to send a menacing look to both of her brothers.

“I’m not going to dignify that accusation with a justification,” Azzi says, standing so she’s towering over her two brothers who are still sitting on the floor, “now clean up the game. It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime.”

They might be well into their twenties and José might be taller than her now, but they’re still not quite immune to Azzi’s wrath. Tallulah and Paige snicker as the two men, sulking at each other, obey their older sister's command without another word.

“You’ve gotta teach me how you do that,” Tallulah says, hi-fiving Azzi who smirks in response.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whispers, “what does dig-ni-fy mean?”

“Mean she’s not gonna entertain your uncles being dumba-”

“Paige!”

“Being dumbapples,” Paige corrects and both Azzi and Stephie give her an odd look at her ridiculous attempt at saving the bad word from leaving her lips.

“Alright Stephie-bean,” Azzi says, pulling her daughter off of Paige’s lap, “it’s late enough. Off to brush your teeth you go.”

Stephie looks hesitantly between the staircase leading up to the guest bedroom -where she and Azzi normally stayed- and Paige.

“Can Miss Buecks stay with us tonight?” she asks softly, one hand bunching in Paige’s shirt as she stares up at her mother with large doe eyes, “please Mama.”

“Stephie I don’t think-” Paige begins, ready to stick to the boundaries they’d laid out for themselves and really Azzi should let her; should follow her lead really.

Except the words are tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop them, “yeah she can- she can stay.”

“YAYY,” Stephie squeals, jumping into Azzi’s arms as Paige stares up at her in surprise, “thank you, thank you, thank you Mama. I’m so happy,” she swings from Azzi to Tallulah, “aunty Tully did you hear? Miss Buecks is gonna stay with us and you can make her your famous pancakes in the morning.”

“I can, can I?” Tallulah asks with a raised eyebrow as she lets Stephie and her excited chatter lead her towards the bathroom. With Jon and José both having already started towards their own rooms and Azzi’s parents fast asleep, it leaves just Paige and Azzi in the living room.

“You’re okay with me staying?” Paige asks softly, finally lifting herself from the floor and onto her feet.

Azzi scratches the back of her neck, “if- if you want to. You don’t have to. I can- I’ll explain to Stephie-”

“I want to,” Paige says, taking a cautious step towards Azzi, “but the rules?”

“This doesn’t count,” Azzi justifies and Paige smirks, taking another step towards the brunette.

“It doesn’t?”

“We said no sleeping over at each other’s places. This is my parent’s house. So technically it doesn’t count,” Azzi shrugs, trying to keep her face from breaking into a grin as Paige moves one more step closer.

“And where exactly am I sleeping?” Paige asks with a knowing grin as she loops an arm around Azzi’s waist, briefly checking to make sure no one’s around.

Azzi tilts her head, letting the grin break through, “I think Stephie would like it if you slept with us.”

“Ah well if that’s what Stephie would like,” Paige says, nodding commiseratingly.

“For Stephie’s sake,” Azzi repeats as she wraps her arm around Paige’s neck, pressing her forehead against the older girl’s and letting herself just breathe in the peace that comes with being all consumed by Paige.

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is laced with uncharacteristic vulnerability as she speaks again, “you won’t- you won’t run away again tomorrow morning will you?”

“No,” Azzi promises, gently brushing her lips against Paige’s, “I won’t run away again.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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raticalshoez · 3 months ago

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I just feel the need to get this out there because this has been sitting in my Google Docs brainrot document:

I will always believe that Scar is the saddest, most tragic Life Series character.

I'm unsure whether this is an unpopular opinion or not, but I feel like if I were to ask people who they think the most tragic member is they might say Grian, or Martyn, or Jimmy simply because of #lore implications, but when I'm bored I like to reflect on the Life Series characters and...like...

3rd Life had Grian indebted to Scar, creating a narrative based around loyalty that inevitably had to end in tragedy when they were the last two standing, neither one of them wanting to be to one to lead to the dekise of the other. Everyone knows the origin story of Desert Duo, come on now. I'd argue this is one of Scar's less tragic seasons though because throughout the entire thing, he had the unfaltering loyalty of a person, and that loyalty didn't waver on his end either. One might be tempted to bring up the Bdubs friendship pass, but that was all part of a plan Scar formulated, and Grian just never happened to see the secret message sent to him. All in all, a story of companionship that's only tragic towards the end.

Then, Last Life comes, and he is lonely. People are really quick to point to Joel for being lonely this season, but if anything, I'd describe Joel as manic over just lonely. This whole season, Scar tries to make friends after losing his only one to the curse of a red life. Time and time again he's seen trying to help people, he acts as a life dispenser, and at every turn he us either dismissed and never truly seen as an ally, or he faces death, whether by natural causes or by the hand of another player. In fact, instead of making friends, he seems to make a sworn enemy out of Team BEST. This season is really what kickstarts Scar's progression into being one of the staples of Lonely Characters ™️ of the Life Series, for even his final death is practically alone, with no happy reunions with allies, and no boos from any sworn enemies either.

I could argue this is another case of Scar being faced with lonliness because his once closely knit ally in Grian, has now shown scorn for their new fated bond. Scar is left behind as Grian goes to be with BigB, and out of them two, BigB has the guilt to tell Ren the whole secret soulmate ordeal, but Grian keeps his mouth shut. Scar finds out about the whole situation on his own, bitterly offering gifts for Grian to give, and hanging out with Pearl, the girl who is quite literally the commonly accepted poster child for all aspects of loneliness depicted in the Life Series. In this series, I think Scar gets some sort of closure in Grian and him working together again towards the end of the season, but even so, the two of them die apart, in a way symbolizing the disconnect they had all season long.

Limited Life is quite possibly Scar's happiest season, and therefore I don't really have anything to say about it. I think to some degree, everyone in the Life Series has the ability to be an asshole, and I think every single character is morally grey, and with all that being said I think the person Scar needed most was Cleo. Sure, they enable him to be as chaotic as possible, and yeah, being around Ckeo thus season quite possibly made Scar the snarkiest he's been, but the connection he had with her, and just the Clockers overall was so strong. Yes, there's the whole Etho dad thing, and you could argue that's another tally for Scar's abandonment board, but really, that whole bit has always been more comedic to me than it has been entirely dramatic or angsty.

And everyone knows Secret Life. Once again, Scar finds himself in the role of the lonely merchant, running a shop solo, and constantly trying to make friends, but there is always something stopping him from doing so because something in this world HATES him. Scar doesn't make friends, no, in fact, the Secret Keeper screws him over so much that by the end of this season he is literally embracing the role of a villain. He goes on a killing spree, more successful than he's ever done before, and he finds himself face to face with Pearl, who wants him to take her life. He calls it lame, and not fair because if Pearl's good at the game, she should own it and between me and you personally, I think Scar's just got a soft spot for a fair fight between the last two standing. I think the saddest part of Secret Life is the lack of closure Scar gets because he is the only winner that doesn't get to die and meet in this sort of afterlife where everyone reunites and talks like friends again, as if they all hadn't caused each others' demise. Scar doesn't get that, and is instead stuck in, at least in Martyn's interpretation, an endless loop of pressing that succeed button over and over as he goes mad.

This is a ridiculously long post, but I just NEEDED to get it out of my system. I feel like people could argue the curse of having allies is more tragic because you have to witness their deaths, or you can make the argument that maybe trying to fund the most tragic Life Series character is redundant because with how this game is, everyone is bound to be tragic either way, and to which I say true. I just feel like in a game where it's so natural for people to split up into groups of 3, 4, sometimes even 5, Scar's a character that has ended up alone so many times. It's honestly quite insane. I will always say that Pearl and Joel are the lonely dog girl and lonely dog boy of the series, but if there was ever just...the Lonliest, that title would probably go to Scar.

#trafficblr #life series #3rd life smp #last life smp #double life smp #limited life smp #secret life smp #goodtimeswithscar #to me? this needed to me said just for my own good #i don't consider myself the most insane person when it comes to gtws but considering i wrote all of THIS just for his character?#i think i need to reconsider how insane i am about c!gtws

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baronessvonglitter · 7 months ago

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he's got you on a pedestal, and me in his arms

Frankie Morales x bff!Reader

Word count: 3.6K

Summary: you've known Francisco "Frankie" Morales your whole lives. Not even his marriage kept you from being in his life and in his bed. Then one fateful weekend everything changes and you have to find the will to give him up.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, brief mention of underage sex (both parties are minors, 14-15 years old, and is consensual), childood friends, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, established relationship, cheating, idiots in love, reader and Frankie are the same age, mention of infertility (reader), fluff and angst, midlife crisis, camping sex, oral sex (f receiving), biting, creampie, oh and some sleepover antics of the nonsexual kind as well.

Author's Note: this is a re-upload. The original had a link to another site to read it, then I thought, why not just post here, dummy? This takes place before the events of Triple Frontier, and I'm a sucker for the whole "they knew each other all this time but only realized they're in love too late" kind of story. Also, bonus points for anyone who knows where the title of this story is from!

FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You and Frankie stand side by side in the middle of the campsite, admiring the newly-erected tent that will serve as your shelter for the weekend. "You did that in a fifth of the time it took me." He shakes his head. "I'm both impressed and angry. And of course I was watching your ass the entire time." To emphasize this he gives your ass a little grab.

"I know," you reply smartly with a smirk. You grab a bedroll in each hand. "Did you remember to bring your Hello Kitty blanket?"

Smirking back he chuckles and takes the bedrolls from you and places them inside the tent. "Damn, I knew I forgot something." A late evening chill sends you both inside. Frankie quickly unrolls the beds and you lay on them, close together, staring up at the see-through roof, gazing at the stars. "C'mere," he motions you to join him. You scoot next to him and rest your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you protectively. "This is nice, huh?"

"It's peaceful," you whisper. The inky blackness of the sky is only disturbed by the faraway specks of light that the stars give off, before the clouds move to finally reveal the moon.

"You ever just get tired of the constant stress of the world and just want to disappear for a little while?" Frankie sighs contentedly, leaning back with you nestled on his chest, his face illuminated by the gentle moonlight.

"All the time," you whisper back. "But only if I get to disappear with you."

He holds you closer, and when he presses a kiss to your temple you feel his lips curve into a smile. "Sometimes I just wish things could be like the good ol' days when we were kids. No worrying about, well, anything really. Just having fun and not having to care about all the other bullshit." He takes a deep breath and exhales, and you listen to the beat of his heart as you rest your head on his chest. "I think I'm only truly happy when I'm with you."

It's not the first time he's ever said this to you, this man you've shared most of your life with, who you've known since childhood and grown up to do everything with. Only now when you hear these words you're reminded of the ways your lives have forked off into different directions. Your responsibilities have changed, and when you raise your eyes to meet Frankie's you're tempted to just take him away from the woman you convinced him to marry. But there's one small catch that halts such a decision on your end.

He nudges you. "I thought you fell asleep there. You got so quiet. That's not like you."

"You're imagining things." You try to push your worrisome thoughts away.

"You know if you fall asleep first, I'm obligated to get out my Sharpie and draw a dick on your face."

You bury your face into his chest and laugh. It's one of those little traditions you carry out, ever since you were young and innocent enough to sleep over at each other's houses. "I guess I'll have to do my best to stay awake." You kiss his cheek.

Frankie pulls you in closer, sighing contentedly. "I think I really needed this.." his voice trails off and his breathing becomes deep and even until he's on the brink of falling asleep. "This is nice," he whispers, eyes closed.

This.. the yearly camping trip you take, a tradition that started that first year of his marriage, the year that separated your paths. This allows you to reconnect.

At one time there was nothing you didn't do without the other: you graduated kindergarten in the same class, learned to ride bikes, and Frankie even defended you from the school bully, earning a black eye for his efforts. You had your first kiss together at a friend's birthday party, playing Seven Minutes in Heaven. You fumbled towards each other in the dark of a closet, and once your lips met there were fireworks. It was one of those rare moments when you realize the person you're supposed to be with is already your best friend.

When you were teenagers and spending the night was no longer appropriate, you stayed down in his basement until his parents were asleep and you practiced kissing on the couch, trusting each other as you went a little further each time, until the night it happened and, unable to control yourselves, you were suddenly half-dressed, trying to keep quiet as your bodies came together. It was a blur of warm flesh, wet kisses, and a twinge of pain that was soon overshadowed by growing need. You didn't cum that first time, but Frankie definitely did, and after weeks of worrying you were relieved to find you weren't pregnant. Years later you found out that you would never be able to be a mother at all.

But that new chapter had begun, and so you spent nearly every spare moment together fucking. He'd sneak into your bedroom or you'd drive out to lover's lane and get hot and heavy in his truck. You were a couple, unofficially, always together. Even your families expected that one day you'd get married and have a family. But your paths diverged after graduation, when he joined the military and you chose to go to school across the country. You stayed in touch, called when you could, but time and distance kept you apart. You were both too reticent to talk about the future, and when you both started to see other people it became apparent that your childhood love had come to an end.

You kept in touch sporadically, typically when you were both in town visiting your families. And you'd hook up, as if time hadn't created any distance between your hearts. When you got your first apartment after college Frankie offered to help you move, and by the end of the day, despite the aches and pains after carrying boxes up two flights of stairs and arranging furniture, you still found time to christen every room, fucking like rabbits against any and every flat surface of your new place. Frankie had stamina like you wouldn't believe, but he always insisted it was only with you.

You were on-again, off-again, trying to kickstart your separate careers. But your friendship remained even when you dated other people. There were a few times when you found yourself in his bed when you were someone else's girlfriend, or vice versa. There was no malice or guilt involved. You just sought each other out because it was natural. Even when he got engaged you never lost faith that you would lose him. You liked his wife-to-be, Melissa, and even got along with her. But the night before she and Frankie were to get married, it was you he spent the night with, worried he was making the wrong choice. You'd convinced him, after he'd eaten you out from behind then fucked you hard, spread-eagle on your bed, to marry her. The next morning you stood at the altar with both of them, looking on and smiling, still feeling the drip of his cum from the night before.

What would Melissa think if she knew? Does she even have a grain of suspicion when you drive away with her husband to be unreachable for a whole weekend? This year everything is different, and maybe as you pulled away from their driveway, as she waved and blew kisses, she was gloating inside with the secret knowledge that she's the most important woman in his life now.

Frankie looks so serious in his sleep and you stifle your giggles as you draw on his face with eyeliner.

He stirs from his sleep. "Did you just draw a dick on my face?"

"No, you're dreaming," you lie, continuing to vandalize him with crudely drawn dicks as you straddle him.

"What the fuck? Stop that!" He laughs hysterically as he tries to push you off. "Babe, I said stop! There's no way those things are even proportionate!"

"Art is subjective! They don't need to be proportionate!" You're barely able to catch your breath from laughing so hard.

"Oh yeah? Subject this!" Frankie rolls over onto you, grabs your eyeliner pen and scribbles onto your face with it, drawing a huge dick and balls on your forehead and your cheeks. You let him, your eyes shut tight, trying to stay still though your body shakes with laughter. "Oh man.. look at you." He leans forward admiring his handiwork. "You look like a little dick-covered goblin. It's hilarious."

You ask for your mirror and he finds it within your duffel bag, then you both take turns checking out each other's artistry, giggling like kids. "Is it too much to ask for a few veins on these guys?" He grumbles.

"You have to earn dick veins. See this one right here? That's you. I drew it from memory. See the slight curve?"

Your smirk turns him on. "Anything else I have to earn? Maybe a wet nap to wipe all this away?"

"I've got something wet you can have.."

With a barely suppressed growl Frankie leans down and kisses you, tongue ravishing your mouth as your moans intermingle, and your limbs wrap around him as they've done hundreds of times. His heated kisses travel down your jaw, your neck where he leaves little love bites, marking you as his to whatever dumbass you decide to flirt with once you part ways after the weekend. Desire blooms, pink to hot red under your skin as he rips open your shirt, sending buttons flying in every direction. Jesus, you're already soaked for him, but he's taking his sweet time as usual, leaving you to want, to beg, to whimper. It's no use. He nips at your breasts, leaving love bites on them as well, little spots of magenta on the tops of your soft tits, before giving attention to your nipples, sucking one while plucking the other, feeling them harden so nicely in his mouth and under his savvy touch.

"Where the hell'd you learn all this patience?" you mutter, biting your lip as his tongue swirls around your navel, while he adeptly pulls down your shorts and panties together.

He glances up then laughs. "Even with those dicks drawn on your face, you're still so hot." He pays attention to the little tattoo of his name on your hip bone, giving it a gentle bite as well, feeling his blood surge when you sigh, arching your hips up, then laves it with his tongue to soothe it. Then he dips his head between your thighs, keeping one hand on your breast and the other on your thigh as he softly swipes you with his tongue, tasting you, moving his tongue in slow circles as he holds you down, knowing you like to be dominated in small ways like this. You taught him everything he knows about eating pussy, from those first fumbling attempts in high school, you guided him on what you wanted and how you wanted it. Now he knows it by heart, but he still listens to your body's signals, to your shuddering sighs and high-pitched screams when he's doing it right.

Tongue tickling your clit, then gently biting your swollen pussy lips, bringing out a sharp, stifled cry from you. "Don't pretend you don't like it, baby," he coos, his breath whispering over your slick folds. "Come on, let me hear you scream.."

Your thighs threaten to close around his head but he's strong enough to keep them wide apart, effectively restraining you as you grind against his face, offering up that honey he can taste even in his dreams. "Come on, baby.. come on.." he urges you, almost tantalizing you, and before you can put forth a smart response the dam breaks, and you feel it in the weakness of your knees before the fire within surges and makes you cry out, fucking his face until you're completely satisfied.

Not missing a beat, he flips you over and lifts your ass, admires your sopping cunt before running his finger along your wetness and offering it to you to suck off. You moan around his finger as he starts to fuck you from behind, spreading your thighs wider so he can see where you're joined, watch the smooth, rhythmic movements as you back up on him, your ass cheeks rippling with each bounce. "Fuck me.. fuck me.." you wail as your fingers clench the fabric of the bedroll beneath you, it's upholstery scratchy against your face as Frankie pushes your shoulders down and keeps your ass up.

"Jesus Christ!" he moans, and the rest of what he mumbles is completely inaudible as he speeds up, knowing the rhythm you like, the rhythm you need in order to cum, and his hands are magic on your clit as he rubs you from beneath.

"Frankieeee!!" His name turns into a moan, punctuated by the slap of his balls thwacking against your cunt. Your hair is wrapped around his hand, and he pulls you up as you support yourself on your arms. He presses in deep and your eyes widen from how he grazes your cervix, careful not to cause you any pain. Your arms wobble as a series of shocks originate deep within your cunt, growing and spreading as you start to cum. Frankie feels the swell rise within you and grunts, pushing harder because that's what's going to send you over the edge. You cry out in unison as you clench around him possessively, keeping his cock there where it belongs, in the first woman he ever fucked, in the only woman he measures everyone else against. He spills himself inside you, fingers indenting themselves on your hips, leaving small bruises, marking himself on your skin.

"We're a disaster," he moans later, catching his breath next to you.

"But we're fun."

"I don't know," he sighs. "It just feels like I've been living a mundane kind of life the past several years."

You raise yourself on an elbow, studying the solemn look on his handsome face. Lately in your texts and emails he's been downhearted, and now you're seeing it in person. His words pull on your heart. "We just fucked and now you want to get sad on me?" Then you smirk and press a soft kiss to his lips as you gently trace his graying beard with your fingertips. "Hey, listen to me: there is nothing mundane about Francisco Morales, okay?"

His smile is wide and he kisses your fingertips. You've put a bandage on his heart. "You're right, I think what I meant was, I've just been in this rut, this monotonous cycle, just doing the same thing over and over."

"Yeah. It's called Middle Age. Population: us." You take some makeup wipes from your bag and you both wipe away each other's dick artwork.

"Hey, no need to remind me I'm not that young anymore," he laughs, trying not to make a face as you wipe his face clean. "I don't wanna be the guy clinging to his youth. I just miss our younger days."

You sigh, settling in against him. "Those were the best times.. stealing my mom's car to go to parties, playing pranks at school, skipping class to make out in your truck.."

"They say high school will be the best years of your life and we laughed it off, calling it bullshit. Maybe they were onto something."

You playfully smack his shoulder. "Don't say that! I'm in my prime."

Frankie chuckles and kisses your forehead. "Sorry, I'm just in my feels tonight."

So are you, and you can't help the next words that come out of your mouth. "Sometimes I wonder how it would have turned out for us if we'd gotten together like everyone thought.." In the distance you hear thunder rumbling.

He shifts position slightly. "I'd like to think we actually would've stayed together. We've known each other forever. That kind of bond doesn't just go away." You're both quiet, lost in those dangerous thoughts of 'what-if' when he says, "You know I'd make you my wife if it weren't for Melissa, right?"

"Don't say that. Melissa's a good woman for you. She doesn't put up with your bullshit."

He continues as if he doesn't hear you, or chooses not to. "I'd leave her for you. I just don't want to continue this charade that we don't mean anything to each other, that our calls and our weekends together are dust in the wind, meaningless."

"Nothing between us is meaningless.. never has been," you whisper as your heart threatens to beat its way outside of your body, to fly straight into Frankie's chest and merge with his own red, throbbing heart. "Frankie, I think your judgment is just a little clouded.."

"Do you know how many times I've laid in bed, thinking about you? How many times I wish my wife was you?"

He starts an ache inside you, one that only he can provide the remedy for, but now things have taken a serious turn. You've never defined your relationship, you always just were. "Frankie, stop. Don't say that. Melissa's one of the few females I actually get along with." You tell yourself if you keep saying her name it'll humanize her, keep her as the victim of the story, the heroine, the protagonist. Whatever will help label you as the villain, because what else would anyone call you if they knew what you were doing?

"I don't take stock in what people say. We can always go back. We can't get back the time that was taken away from us, but we can claim the future for us." He takes a deep breath. "I'm leaving her. I've made up my mind. I'm going to tell her when I get home." He sees the look of shock on your face and he mistakes it for something else. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. This is what I want. And I know it's what you want. You know what? Fuck it, let's just run away together. She'll take the hint. I don't love her the same as I love you. She has to know this by now. Let's just start our lives together. Just go where we want. We can have that." His hands are gripping yours now, and the way he talks is manic, as if he's barely holding onto the last shred of his sanity.

You're shaking your head, going against your weaker nature. "If you'd asked me this a year ago I would've said yes immediately.. I'd follow you to Hell, you know that." Your heart breaks as you consider your next words. "Frankie, you can't leave Melissa, and we can't continue this.."

A pause. "Why the hell not?" You can hear his heart breaking in his voice.

You struggle with what little honor you have left. You promised Melissa you'd keep her secret. But you've also been betraying her trust for years. Your heart is heavy with the choice you have to make.

"She's pregnant," you answer quietly. And the rain starts, a light patter on your tent.

Frankie stares at you as if you're speaking gibberish. "I don't.. wait, what did you say?"

You groan inwardly. It's bad enough you had to say them once, now he needs them repeated. "Frankie, you're going to be a dad.. Melissa gave me the news yesterday.. she wanted to be the first to tell you."

He processes this, and you watch the expressions that cross his face: disbelief, calculation, understanding, then realization. You commit to memory the look of joy that's etched across his features. "That explains so much," he says, a smile growing on his lips. "That's so.. wow!"

Your own heart begins to break. It should be you with the life within you, but it's not. It never will be. You try to be happy for your best friend. As of now, that's all he'll ever be to you. There are so many things you want to say to him in this moment, but you swallow each and every word so that they're stopped in your throat and you choke on them.

When all is said and done, you can't be the number one girl in his life anymore. In fact you're already losing him. He hasn't even brought up the idea of running away with you. That small window of time you once shared has run out. And you have to learn to be okay with it.

At the end of your weekend together, you drop him off at his home where his wife waits out front, a beatific smile on her face. Your stomach twists as you try to keep from your heart turning bitter.

Now that you're both faced with the reality of your separate futures, Frankie turns to you before he exits, and an emotion crosses his face to which you can't put a name. "That can't really be it for us. Nothing has to change between us," he says, a last-ditch effort to keep you.

"We're always going to be friends," you tell him, a tear in your eye that you hope he doesn't see.

"We've never been just friends."

"But I've been selfish in keeping you around.. and I'll never be able to give you what she's giving you."

It's quiet in the car, and there is rarely quietness between you.

"I love you," he says, and you don't doubt it for a minute. You grab hold of his hand.

"I love you too," you tell him. "It's their turn now."

You watch from your car as he reunites with his wife, the intimately joyful conversation they have, after which Frankie picks her up and embraces her happily. It's both the worst kind of pain and the best.

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

#francisco morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #friends to lovers #the other woman #secret relationship #triple frontier fanfiction

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mayu-otome · 8 months ago

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William Rex 2nd Birthday Epilogue

These translations are solely for entertainment and not profit. Accuracy is not 100% guaranteed.

(quick note that English and Japanese are not my native language and there might be some errors and mistakes in my grammar and wording in the translation)

This story is in William’s POV

From time to time, I recall the sincerity Kate had when she held my hand and made the decision to live with me.

I have no regrets about taking everything in her life with these hands.

That's why, in this moment, I’ll sing my ultimate love for you.

William: Victor, a fine red wine for you.

Victor: Vintage red wine... oh, is this to thank me for giving you a day off after your birthday?

William: It's for giving you extra work even though you're already a very busy man.

Victor: I don't mind it at all! I find it rewarding to work for you and Kate.

Victor: But I shall accept this, still. Let's have a drink with Kate later.

(As generous as ever, aren't you?)

Victor accepted the bottle of wine in high spirits, his gaze focused onto my hands.

Victor: What's that, William?

William: Oh, I just went to receive the photograph I took with Kate on my birthday.

Victor: A photograph of you and Kate? Let me see it too...

William: Certainly.

Victor: ... Ah, how nice. This is a very nice photograph.

Victor: I'm sure the future generations will remember you two as the self-righteous king and his partner.

William: I hope that Kate won't be criticized as a princess who was tempted by evil and driven mad.

Victor: Even if she were to be called that, I think that girl would laugh and be happy about it.

William: Yeah, without a doubt.

Victor: ……

Victor: ... Will. Most things are imaginable to me.

William: You're rather confident in yourself, aren't you, Vic?

Victor: I don't mean to say that I'm special.

Victor: Humans have fates.

Victor: Life gets branched out into countless different paths, but fate guides us to where we ultimately belong.

Victor: Much like how a river will eventually reach the sea.

William: Like how my fate is for my own ferocity to destroy me?

Victor: Yes, it may feel much firmer to the Cursed.

Victor: Humans are creatures that will resist their predetermined fates, seeking freedom.

Victor: But you, William, accepted and loved your fate.

Victor: Ever since I met you for the first time in the palace.

(... Ahh, this feels nostalgic.)

William: To me, letting fate lead me by the nose is no different from being unable to be the master of my own life.

William: That's why I chose to accept and love it.

Victor: I understand that's the kind of person you are. It's just, I feel a little bit of loneliness.

William: Lonely, hmm? Why so?

Victor: That's…

Victor: That's because you are beautiful, self-righteous, and — there didn't seem to be an end to your loneliness.

Victor: That's why I'm glad that there's someone who will share this fate with you.

Victor: ... It must've been so unbearable.

As I left the office after my conversation with Victor, I couldn't help but smile.

(... I've been alone for the longest time, huh.)

Those words from my longtime friend were rather difficult to ignore.

(I never meant to be alone.)

I love humans, and I love watching them living freely more than anything.

Yet, I knew that the closer I got to them, the more likely they would be dragged into my own destruction.

(That's why I chose to be self-righteous.)

(Like rainfall after a drought that will leave when the time comes)

(I never thought of it to be lonely or inconvenient.)

(Still...)

Kate: Sometimes… I wonder…What kind of facial expression will I be wearing when my ultimate destruction comes?

Kate: I think… I’ll surely be smiling happily.

William: … And when I’m holding your happily smiling dead body in my arms, your poison will spread and stop my breathing too.

Kate: … At that point of time, shall we go to sleep together at the finishing line?

(Meeting Kate made me conscious of it.)

(Living with Kate has made me even freer.)

Just like I became free by living with Kate,

I feel that Kate has also become free in every way by living with me.

It was only the two of us, but we were as free as we could be.

(I want to see Kate's face......Let's go see her)

I left the palace and passed through the dense forest until the faint sound of the piano could be heard.

Drawn to the melody, I headed toward the grand hall.

There sat the person I expected to see, her fingers dancing across the black and white keys of the piano.

William: Kate

Kate: ……Will!

Kate: Hehe, I knew you would come.

William: You knew?

Kate: I couldn't find you anywhere, so I thought that you'd notice if I played the piano.

William: How does it feel to have lured the self-righting king into the palms of your hands?

Kate: You make me sound like a supervillain…

William: Ahahaha!

Kate: Oh, Will, you went to pick up the photograph right?

William: Yeah, you too?

Kate: Yes, but you beat me to it.

Kate turned her eyes onto the photograph in my hand

Her gaze contained both anticipation and excitement, she looked as though unable to wait any longer to see it.

I sat next to her on the stool and handed Kate the photograph; and she got so absorbed in staring at it, as though she had lost track of time.

There we were, smiling while cuddled together.

William: What do you think?

Kate: .... We look very happy.

William: Yeah, you're right.

Kate: ... But my heart was even happier.

Kate looked up from the photo and turned her gaze to me.

Kate's eyes contained a beautiful light, burning with life.

(What’s in your heart can never be seen by others)

Therefore, no one will know what the two people in this photograph were really thinking.

(But only I know what’s inside Kate’s heart)

(And only Kate knows what’s inside my heart)

(That's fine, because that's the truth.)

William: Speaking of which, what was the song you were playing earlier?

Kate: It's K.265 by Mozart in C Major.

William: It's become your signature song, hasn't it?

Kate: I practiced a lot because I wanted you to hear it.

William: Did u know, Kate? This piano variation has a theme and 12 variations.

William: It was originally a song about the sweet pain of falling in love after making a wrong step.

Kate: ….. I see

Kate's fingertips caress the keyboard tenderly.

Kate: Hey, Will. If only there were no such thing as suffering.

Kate: But, to me, this is a happy song about loving someone so much that it hurts.

Kate: It's strange how the pain you go through in order to love someone sometimes enriches your life.

Kate smiled as she said that, looking as beautiful as a flower blooming in spring

By my side, she becomes more free and beautiful day by day

I found that incredibly endearing.

William: I'd like to hear the rest. You stopped playing in the middle of the second variation.

Kate: Yes, of course Will.

Kate: Okay, let’s continue.

Kate's fingers danced over the keys, a beautiful melody echoed through the air.

I wanted to make this sound, this sight, and this sparkle of life named Kate mine.

An impulse that contradicts freedom wells up, and I smiled inside.

(Kate)

(I love this moment when I'm living with you)

I placed kisses on Kate's hair, neck, and cheek.

Kate: .. W-Will

William: Go on

Kate: But…..

William: I want you and the music you're playing. I can't help it, you know?

Kate: ... Jeez…

The music started to lose a little tempo as it approached the ending.

The moment Kate's fingers stopped playing, I would steal her lips.

The kiss awaiting her at the end was sure to be the best and the most sinful.

#william rex #ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil william

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princesssmars · 1 year ago

Text

practical magick

a stiles stilinski x witch!reader

plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.

wc : 4.678

contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry 😞i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.

a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.

for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.

he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.

yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."

just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.

"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.

its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.

a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.

"its closer," he thinks.

he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.

at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-

in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.

he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.

you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.

you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.

"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."

before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven

"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."

turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.

his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.

he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.

"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"

your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.

"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"

"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.

"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.

he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.

he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.

"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”

yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.

“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”

"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"

"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"

"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.

you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.

when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.

"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”

he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-

“hurry up.”

he rushes to catch up behind you.

after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.

magic, duh.

you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.

"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"

"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."

"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.

"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."

"thank you. why is he doing it?"

"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"

"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.

"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"

you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.

"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."

he blinks. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."

that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.

he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.

“you just did. but go ahead.”

“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”

you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.

“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”

“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.

“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.

“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”

something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.

“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”

“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”

he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.

“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."

you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.

“you’ve got a deal.”

after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.

when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.

before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.

as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.

the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.

"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"

"you said i could."

"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."

"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."

"really funny."

(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)

but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.

he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.

"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."

"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."

"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"

"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"

it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.

"im sorry."

"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.

he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.

"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."

he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."

you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.

"its not fair."

"its not."

"...thank you."

"don't mention it."

you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-

"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"

hey, that works for him.

as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.

"please. just give it a minute."

and so he did.

only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.

"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"

"bye stiles."

he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.

deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.

"where'd you get that bracelet?"

"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"

deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."

"could you explain them to me? just because you know."

the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.

"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."

stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.

"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."

this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.

"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.

"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"

"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."

"and the one on the bottom?"

"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."

stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.

he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.

(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)

the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.

the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.

what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-

"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."

he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.

"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."

"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.

he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.

"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."

he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.

"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"

you blink. "go ahead."

he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.

"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"

he goes into a near coughing fit.

"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"

before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes, god yes-"

your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.

he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.

"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"shut up and kiss me again."

"whatever you say, babe."

for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.

ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.

#teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #stiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x witch reader #stiles x reader #witch reader #witch!reader #deaton #scott mcall

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gauloiseblue · 9 months ago

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I don't care if you don't want me / I'm yours right now

(Price × Reader)

[+18 | Warning: dub-con, drug use (sex pollen), light choking, and a dash of breeding kink]

There he goes again, ricochets between virtue and desire.

"You're too good for me."

"Don't get me wrong, love. You're beautiful."

"But I'm just an old man, I'll bore you to death."

"As if I care." You retorted, "You know me, John. Don't make this difficult for us."

"It's for your own good, (Name)." He smiled, "Someday you'll understand."

You grit your teeth, as you sense his mind is lost in the sea of uncertainty.

It's not a secret that the two of you want each other, just as the skin closing itself over the cut. But his selfishness keeps tearing it apart, leaving a gaping wound between you and him.

You wouldn't care if he didn't love you, but deep in his heart, he did. He still does. And that drives you mad, because there's no reason for him to push you away. Yes, you might come from a different background, but you share the same view as him.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" You tilted your head, "You said that the government didn't care about trivial things." You leaned forward, as you spoke in a lower tone, "Unless you've already suspected their involvement in this."

He chuckled at you, as he rubbed the nape of his neck. "You know me too well, (Name). It scares me sometimes."

Still, it wasn't enough, as if reading each other's minds isn't something intimate. Something that could only be achieved at the expense of vulnerability. You knew he had read your thoughts, and he knew you've peered into his heart, but he stood there, unmoving, while you begged him to come closer.

You wished you could reach out to him, stretching your hands toward him, but your arms were tied, and your feet planted to the ground. You were bound by the principles, and your inability to hold him pushed you to the point of frustration.

Perhaps it's just a game of play pretend, or maybe it's true that you're not good enough for him. Not smart enough, not pretty enough, and not meek enough. But you weren't born to be a lamb—a creature so sweet, and lovesome. A pretty thing that could put a smile on his face, and a poison in your heart.

When he looked at the other women, your chest would tightened, as bitter tears stung your eyes. It blinded you, as you walked away from the place. Not knowing that his gaze would linger on the door for a while.

This ugly side of you would grow, consuming the trust that you've built for him. You no longer found the use of moral restraint, since it didn't help you get what you wanted.

By the time you saw the unattended vial on the table, it was already too late.

You were never a saint, but you wouldn't be tempted by the devil either. Until Price came to you. Just like John the Baptist, his fate was sealed the moment he refused your kiss. You never wished to be Herod's daughter, but he left you with no choice.

If he wouldn't give you the answer, you'd just have to take it by yourself.

When he downed the whole glass of water you gave him, you simply waited. You waited, until his breath turned heavy, and his stare burned a hole in you.

"What'd you put in the drink?" He hissed.

"Nothing." You replied, "Just a truth serum."

"A truth serum?" He snarled, as he stood up and grabbed you by the collar, "Let me ask you once again. What did you put in my drink?"

"It's called a truth serum," You argued while you glared at him, "Because it'll tell me exactly how you feel about me."

"You foolish girl—"

You didn't have the chance to spat, as he shoved you to the nearest surface. The papers on the table flung down when he pushes everything away, before pressing you down with a kiss.

It's rough and stifling, as he leaves you with no room for breathing. You struggle to hold him off with your hands, trying to slow him down. But your attempt causes him to grunt, before he yanks them away from his chest.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" He growled into your ear, "You want me to ravage you like an animal, don't you? Is that what you really want?"

He wraps his fingers around your throat, rendering your speech into gibberish mess.

"You were wrong about me, sweetheart." He retorted, as he pressed his hip against your clothed core, "I might admire strong women in the field, but if I were a husband, I want my wife to be at home, taking care of our children." He dragged his grip up, and your mouth snapped open as you shouted in pain. "And if you were to be my wife, I'd knock you up every night. Because that's the only way to keep a woman like you by my side."

He chuckles when he feels you shudder under him. He lets go of your jaw, before slipping his hand beneath your pants. Your eyes widen, as he slips his finger between your folds.

"You're wet already?" He mocked, as he rubbed circles on your clit, "I barely even touched you."

"John—" You gasped when he put a pressure against the little bud, "Wait—"

It wasn't your intention to back down, moreover getting a cold feet, but his grasp on your hands tightened, to the point that you thought your bones would snap. You cry out, as you fail to tell him the other choice for the second time.

Though you failed to do it verbally, he soon found it out when a small flacon fell from your pocket.

He brings it up as he inspects the liquid inside, before he murmurs, "It's the antidote, isn't it?" He doesn't need to see how your face changes to confirm his suspicion, "I knew you'd bring one along, you're such a thoughtful girl."

You watch him in shock when he pulls the lid off with his teeth, before pouring out the content to the floor.

"But we won't need it anymore," He sneered as he tossed the bottle aside, "Since I'm not stopping any time soon."

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #price x reader #captain price #john price x reader #price cod #i realized i haven't written any yandere price #or smut with price in it #but my god. i couldn't keep myself dry when I wrote him 💀#not even hardcore konig smut could make me feel like this

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theriverbeyond · 5 months ago

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It's crazy how well-crafted Hadestown is, like there aren't many shows out there that have equally strong messages artistically and politically. What do you think of the balancing of Hades as a character? Personally I love how it's shown that even after his reconnection with Persephone it's his clinging to the existing power structure that leads him to make the deal he does with Orpheus, so it isn't a clear-cut redemption - I think that is what makes it so neither his humanity nor the system he upholds feels hollow.

CRACKS KNUCKLES ok so on a character/thematic/narrative level I'm obsessed with Hades because the political compentary he represents feels so coherent and distinctly recodnizable to like, Figures and Systems Of Power that exist in the world right now

I really really really love how Hades specifically turns to industry because he is *lacking* genuine love/connection/care and using these material comforts trying to fill the void inside him -- "Lover, you were gone so long/ Lover, I was lonesome/ So I built a foundry/ In the ground beneath your feet" -- it feels very similar to how so much of modern life is Being Sold The Idea Of Love And Connection. We too turn to capitalism to replace genuine connection that is lacking in our lives, like how buying and being sold the aesthetics of community is easier than actually creating and being in community. Genuine affection and care vs the feeling of power as you wield it over others.

And Hades doing this only further alienates him from Persephone, and it becomes this vicious cycle of him creating and upholding a system that drives away any actual connection, which then of course only motivates him to Continue Onwards. His "Lover, when you see that glare/ Think of it as my despair for you" with Persephone responding "Lover, what have you become/ Coal cars and oil drums/ Warehouse walls and factory floors/ I don't know you anymore".

And re: Hades' redemption, I think the fascinating thing is he ISN'T redeemed. TO ME!! He gets to the point of redemption and then he turns away, which I think fits really well into the overarching theme of the show, as in, resisting the pull of capitalism feels impossible and often ends in tragedy but we should do it anyway, and also fits the PATTERN of the show, which is people getting to the doorstep of freedom and then turning around.

Specifically, when Orpheus asks "Can we go?" and Hades says "I don't know", that is his redemption point. He wants to help them, but he feels stuck, and trapped in this web he created and sat himself in the middle of. Can he break his own system? And Hades' personal tragedy is he gets SO CLOSE but then the Fates (or like, his own inner dialogue) come in and tempt him away. They make him Doubt -- "If you let him go/ Oh you're a spineless king/ And you'll never get em in line again". He is, at the end of the day, TOO trapped in the system he has created ("Whole damn nation's watching you"), too dependent on the workers he exploits that he doesn't see any other way to live. "That's the way the world is". Hades gets so close to letting them go before he turns around, because he decides that letting them go means letting himself go, and he no longer thinks that is possible.

He does let them try, though. "Give them a rope and they'll hang themselves" he does expect them to fail, because he doesnt himself have hope that another world is truly possible, but he knows Orpheus does. Even as he turns back I feel like he's saying. If you believe another world is possible, prove it. "Show the way so we believe"

And I'm just so obsessed with this sequence because like -- "Show the way so we can see/ Show the way the world could be/ If you can do it, so can she/ If she can do it, so can we/ Show the way" -- the unspoken here is that Hades is watching too, and this is a trial, and a test, and like. He can't break the system. He doesn't know how, he doesn't feel like it's possible. But he's watching, he can't not watch, and so that means like. Orpheus' effort is worth it. His believing is worth it. Even as they all fail, again and again and again, it's worth it.

#hadestown #media blogging #LISTENNNNNNNNNN IM. THIS IS A REALLY GOOD SHOW.#ty anon ❤️❤️❤️ if anyone else wants to talk to me about hadestown i have SO many thoughts ough

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITA for tossing a drink?

I (F22) don't drink alcohol: I don't like the taste of it, I was hangover once and I didn't like it at all and there is a large history of alcoholism on both sides of my family so I don't want to tempt fate.

My friends (F21, M22, F23, M23, F24 and M25) have all asked why I don't drink and I have been honest to all of them on my reasons and most of them have been pretty understanding NGL but there is this one friend (F24) who has made it her "duty" on getting me drunk. I didn't know her reasons why until last night.

So, last night we were at M25's apartment, we had decided to make a get together and talk about everything and nothing ans just have a nice time. We all brought our drinks, they had bought alcohol which was cool I don't mind then drinking they are all very responsible.

We were chatting the night away with some pizza and drinks and everything was nice actually. At this point, everyone was still sober and I decided to excuse myself to go pee. When I returned, I took a sip of my soda and inmediately felt the taste of alcohol. I stood up, gave the drink to F21 to hold for me and went to the bathroom again where I spit the soda I had in my mouth.

When I returned my other friends were puzzled. I immediately asked who had spiked my drink. At first, nobody believed my soda was spiked until I asked F21 to try it. She confirmed it had alcohol.

I repeated my question. And F24 confessed that it had been her because she wanted me to let loose a little bit. I gave her my most disgusted look, asked for F21 to return my drink which she did and I tossed the soda down the kitchen drain in front of everyone.

F24 got mad because I was acting like a complete asshole but when I asked her if I was an alcoholic in rehab would it still be fun to get me to spiral back in. She got silent. Her next argument was that why I wouldn't just trade my drink with someone else, I answered that nobody besides me had brought non alcoholic drinks so it would have been a losing situation for me.

Then I asked my other friends how could they not have noticed she spiked my soda, they said they just didn't notice they were chatting which fair we were in a very safe space. F24 was trying to get our other friends to take her side but nobody was backing her up everyone thought that it was a dick move of her to do that.

She then started acting up as if she was the victim here, gathered all of her things and stormed off.

We carried on with our night but for some reason I felt guilty about it. My friends say that it's completely not my fault and that I stood my ground in a very respectful way but I still feel bad for ruining the night. They reasured me it wasnt ruined and we kept our day.

I woke up today still feeling as if I was the one I did something wrong, I spoke with everyone except F24 and everyone is telling me not to overthink it and that the one that deserves an apology is me but I'm still thinking I could have approached the situation better.

So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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year2000electronics · 4 months ago

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Your fiddleford monster au design makes me have so many questions in a good way. Gnawing on the bars on my enclosure kind of way. Does the curse seemingly not affect him in his one year stay helping Ford, and so he does that all himself? Does The Curse, as vague as it is, count that; and drive people to modify themselves and draw away from humanity? Like its not just this magical effect that happens but an active thing in the back of your mind to turn away from what you were born as and embrace something else? Ogh. I'm suddenly a lot more invested in this au

VERY INTERESTING QUESTIONS TO BE CERTAIN so fiddleford is a bit of a unique case where his "monster" theming is tied directly to his decline yes!

full answer under the cut it got long

in my mind, monster falls' curse is tied directly to gravity falls' natural law of weirdness magnetism/"the barrier" keeping bill in. once youve stayed there long enough for the curse to even BEGIN, it becomes harder to leave the town. you just feel drawn to it, and a dull ache in your soul if you leave. so obviously, when ford gets turned into a mothman, he does fully accept that because hes always felt more cryptid than man. but when the time comes for him to ask fiddleford for help, he lays out that "hey, youd be doing me a BIG favour if you came to help with the portal, but this town curses you if you stay for too long so itll only be a few weeks, i promise"

fidds agrees, because hey, whats a few weeks with an old friend? besides, he'll have his wife and son as an anchor to go back to. but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes staying with ford, the more he's reminded of those old times, and the more the curse starts influencing those kinds of thoughts to get louder and louder (but its not ALL the curse you know. still some autonomy in the situation) and so he keeps postponing his return date, almost "tempting fate" about the curse, because he doesn't really feel any different! his friend sprouted wings and antennae! he'd know by now, so he won't check! and ford shrugs and is like "well, alright, it's your choice, we can surely get a little closer to the point of no return"

and yknow, fiddleford denying that the curse could possibly be affecting him is almost like him in canon struggling to reconcile with his two "lives"- his home life and his life with ford. he wants to have his cake and eat it too, because he's just too timid to ever say no.

anyways, one day he wakes up and realizing he's heard the sound of technology near him for a while, and looks around, and realizes it's following him from room to room-

the beeping IS him. it's definitely been a year, he's already been cursed. it's just that he's a robot that looks near-human, just near-human enough that he could turn a blind eye to it and pretend like it never happened and that everything was fine. which i think kinda suits how ford loves the supernatural to a very personal degree, meanwhile fidds got roped into the town by pure happenstance

but. yknow, being a robot that looks human means youre still a robot. and it's a lot harder to erase things from a robot's "brain" without causing some major problems. haven't you ever been programming something or filling out an html code, and then you accidentally delete one thing you thought was inconsequential and all of a sudden youre staring at just a wall of code that's busted because whatever you removed, you DEFINITELY SHOULD NOT HAVE removed?

parts of fiddleford just go kaput and start breaking because he's purposely taking out large chunks of code from his own brain that end up being collateral from the memory gun. because, yknow, the memory gun is imprecise! it was designed for human brains! cos thats what fidds was for years! so it's like if you tried to repair a computer by ripping out the motherboard with pliers

thats my take on it anyways. Ya

#mothra answers #gravity falls #monster falls #my art #fiddleford mcgucket

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d1ana-m0nd · 7 months ago

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╭─► ❝My Mona Lisa❞

Fem! Trafalgar D. Water Law × GN! Reader || Written by Diana (d1ana-m0nd) || Inspired by Mona Lisa

➢ Fluff && Not Proofread , Oneshot && Word Count 1,500

➢ The valedictorian and the salutatorian of Grand Line High have been academic rivals ever since they stepped into the same school. As they transitioned to college and into adulthood, they thought they would never have to see each other again, oh how wrong they were. To add more salt to the wound, the next thing that occurred was not just a coincidence; when they turned 18 the red string of fate showed itself to their hosts and the string happened to be tied to their academic rival’s pinkie finger.

You were late, like later than usual… you blame your stupid brother, Kid, for holding you back in the library because he needed a favor from you. At the moment, you were hurrying to get to your building silently praying the instructors were late before you could present your artwork, you were running down the hallway with your backpack on your back, your poster case barely hanging onto your shoulder, and your other materials jumping in your art container as you ran for your life, er, grades in this instance. At this point, you couldn't bring yourself to care about other people, you were so focused on yourself and the artwork that you just kept loudly apologizing for every person you caused inconvenience to.

“Watch it Eustass!”

“Sorry!”

“Ow-”

“I’m sorry!”

You were about to take a turn but, you bumped into someone’s chest, which ended up with you landing on your butt whilst dropping your art materials and your poster case rolling on the floor.

Disregarding the pain that your pelvis went through, you were quick to apologize. “I’m so, so, so sorry! I was in a hurry- I mean I still am but, like I didn’t see you and-”

As you looked up you were met with the familiar amber eyes that narrowed upon your clumsy self, the person you bumped into was Law. She was the last person you wanted to see. You were tempted to glare at her (an old habit you haven't gotten rid of) but, you ended up going silent as you stared at her. Why did she have to be taller and very blessed around the right departments?

The dark-haired woman crouched down to gather the books she borrowed from the library and the stack of notes she was carrying. The medical student wore a cold expression that you were used to seeing since high school. However, throughout those years you could never tell what she was feeling behind that cold expression. Oddly enough, even though she was cold she attracted a lot of attention though, you could never tell if it was because of her intelligence or her violent nature. Speaking of violent nature, why did Grand Line High allow a delinquent to be a valedictorian student!?

"Hey Y/N,” Her voice brought you back to reality, as she offered her hand to her soulmate as assistance. “Be careful when you walk.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know you’d be here, I assumed you were at the other building around this time.” You sighed, took her hand, and stood up with Law’s help. With her help, you managed to gather your art materials and poster case quickly.

The tanned woman wore a small smile and said, “So you memorized my schedule, huh? Well, aren’t you a good stalker?”

You groaned and lightly smacked her forearm, “Bepo told me! Don’t make it seem like I’m a creep here.”

The girl rolled her eyes, “Why are you running in the hallway anyway?”

“I have to present my final artwork for this semester and I happened to be lucky that my ass of a brother was distracting me in the library. Which is why I'm in a hurry.” You huffed exasperated by Kid’s shenanigans.

Law chuckled, which was cut short as you glared at her, “Sorry, I’m still not used to seeing my academic rival become an art student and, well… discover that they're my soulmate as well.” She admitted scratching her nape.

“You aren’t the only one.” You sighed, silently agreeing with her woes.

You won’t say it out loud but, talking to her as though you were both friends felt weird, weird in a good way. Well, to begin with, interacting with her without the squabbles or taunting her like you used to do during high school was weird altogether. It doesn't help either that you discovered she was your soulmate, you didn't know what to feel… were you supposed to be mad, happy, or sad?

When you first discovered the whole conundrum you were both in, you were mad. The sad part was you couldn't even be mad at her since it was out of her control!

You recalled the night you turned 18, you and your friends were quick to get wasted, with your brother's permission and supervision. Even though you didn't usually drink, you gave in just this once because 18 is usually the age when the red rope around one's pinky showed up. You weren't sure if yours was going to show up or not so you felt like it would be a good idea to get drunk a little to relax yourself.

You, Quincy, Hip, Killer, Cierra, Heat, Kid, Astrid, and Dijoh were taking turns taking shots till one of them spoke up.

“Imagine if your soulmate was Law." Astrid jokingly brought up causing the others to howl with laughter while you groaned. Why did Astrid have to bring that up right now?

Everyone knew about you and Law's academic rivalry. It didn't help either that Kid used to challenge her for more influence among delinquents, so it eventually became an inside joke that one of the Eustass siblings was going to date Law. Since Kid celebrated his birthday and revealed who his soulmate was, it was your turn and you were dreading the results.

The next day, you entered the New World University thinking that nothing interesting would happen. Throughout the whole day, you couldn't stop staring at the red ribbon tied around your pinkie. You tried your best to ignore it but, you felt a random tug from time to time indicating that your soulmate was nearby.

Your curiosity got the best of you and you ended up following the red string, which led you to a familiar dark-haired girl.

“Crap.”

“Shit,” the medical student saw the string tied around your pinkie as well which ended with a stare down between you guys.

It took a lot of convincing from both your friends and Law's friends but, you guys ended up giving each other a chance even if you were both hesitant. Which then ended up in your current very awkward predicament.

“Thanks for helping me out, I'm sorry if I'm bothering you with this." You murmured, scratching your nape.

The medical student reassured you with a small smile, “I'm in study hall, it's not a big deal.”

“So, what's the theme for your artwork?"

“So far the assignments were focused on trying different art mediums and mixing non-art mediums with our art pieces for practice. There was no real theme so it was up to us on what to make so I just made an art piece based on… someone.” You trailed off, embarrassment engraved into your facial features.

"Someone?” Law was intrigued, she never heard you speak to someone so highly. Even with your brother; You never looked up to him, she knows you just respect Kid at most. So hearing you say that was new, she didn't even expect you to look up to someone.

You fidgeted with your fingers, "It's embarrassing, but it's someone who inspires me.”

“So your own Mona Lisa huh?" The dark-haired girl teased, you couldn't tell if she was catching on.

You smiled and confirmed it with a nod, “Yeah."

You were too ashamed to say it out loud to Law but, you made an artwork based on her, she was your Mona Lisa. You never realized it back in high school but you did look up to her; the competition between you and Law is the reason you kept doing your best.

People who knew about you from high school would be shocked by the fact you took art, instead of STEM-related courses. Because they knew a renowned student like yourself, had the grades and the attitude for it. Despite that, you picked up a course that took them by surprise, art.

Many have asked why you chose art as a course and you always replied vaguely. However, the truth is you picked art because you were terrible at speaking the truth. It may be stupid but, the main reason you chose art was to express your true self, words always fail and get stuck in your throat, so you could never express your true self.

After all, art is a medium where you speak your truth, because art doesn't lie.

“One day, I hope to say my love for you in words, my Mona Lisa."

➢ "Reblog to support your favorite writer" belong to @/benkeibear

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massivechestplate · 5 months ago

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Is anyone else tired over recent events? Not in a sleepy way, but in that bone-deep depression way?

Bit of a long post about the general Gacha game-sphere. Needed to get this off of my chest, might as well scream into the void.

I ask this as someone who flirts between these gacha games out of boredom mostly. They're free, they're phone, they got Story, and I'm not spending a cent on them personally, so that's why I play them.

But every fucking day it seems we got another controversy. Bad VA this, fired an artist that, White_Pharaoh.png being handed out like fucking candy on Halloween lately.

And then we discuss on how Its Bad, and we all know Its Bad, people discuss on what to do, Boycott, torch the franchise and run, stay and try to fix it, ignore it because it's been your Comfort Media for the past 3 years, all that stuff. And it's hard. And a lot of those choices always feel half-assed.

I've been around a bit, I've seen it. I was around when Fate Grand Order had LB7, Wandjina, and all the other shit on 2023 JP hit, and there was talk, some talked but stayed, others left but chose to still engage with Type-Moon works, some might've left completely but I never heard of them.

I was around when Project Moon fired Vellmori, and there was betrayal, some deciding to leave, others staying because Project Moon wormed into their hearts and they decided to stay even knowing what was happening. Knowing what it was now built on and where the lines were drawn.

And I'm here now in the midst of the Hoyoverse shittery round 2, I don't think I need to speak at length on that. We've all seen it.

And all the time every potential choice to take feels half-assed?

Do you leave, abandoning the franchise as if leaving without fighting to improve something makes you good, preserving your own morality at the cost of never making anything better? The lack of evil substituting for substantial good?

Do you boycott? If so is it purely not spending money or not even logging in? Does it even make a difference? After all, when do these oversea companies really listen to anyone outside their country of origin? Is it enough to stop on that one specific game and still buy other works, or do you condemn the whole?

Do you continue on as normal, to indulge in the media? To continue what brings you joy and comfort? Is criticizing and acknowledging the faults enough or just lipservice?

Are we arrogant to impose our values on others, hating foreign companies not conforming to our beliefs? Or is this completely reasonable, every scathing speech and point completely justified and never bordering on some level of sinophobia?

And just... it's hard. Hard enough trying to be a Good Person normally but here? In this space? Part of it feels natural and some action is necessary for the Good of Everything, the other part feels like a big fuss over something ultimately small and meaningless.

And it hurts. You give out pieces of yourself to these stories, let it become a part of you, then become forced to tear it out of your heart just to be Good. And when I say that I don't mean in that internet point "I'm a good person way" but the way of being Good with yourself, proving only to yourself.

And it doesn't help that plenty of us have devolved into humanity's good old passtime of tribalism, mockery, and a lack of empathy for The Other. Everyone's been taking the piss out of the other gacha players for the stuff their games pull as if their own games haven't done the same. Some of it might be in good nature, over exaggerated and self-deprecating, a joke or criticism, but its honestly become indistinguishable from genuine malice and contempt.

And...

I'm tired.

Tired of seeing this. Tired of dealing with it. Tired of wondering what to do, what's the best choice, what choice even is there.

Part of me is honestly tempted to just not care. To accept that I'm a bad person by playing these games and going through with it anyways because I'm so tired and cynical that hedonistic indulgence just becomes more worth it than trying to be good. At most accept a Gacha-game that's a 'Lesser Evil' compared to another, if that even counts.

Because it hurts. Because you let these stories change you, touch you, let them into your heart, and then have to tear it out with your own two hands and pretend it doesn't hurt. And you can't feel like you can mourn what you lost, because someone will come in and start raving about how it's dumb you even cared to begin with.

I've seen arguments for every option, from people I don't respect and people I do, strangers and prominent community figures. I've warred with the argument of "Morally Pure Media doesn't exist, don't beat yourself up over it" and wonder just how absolute that statement should be.

And I don't know.

And all I want is to go to sleep, and wake up and have it magically be better.

#gacha #fgo #genshin impact #honkai star rail #hoyoverse #limbus company #arknights #controversy #those who seek to be good become the worst of the worst #im tired over all of this #This is indeed a hell ive walked into #none of this is against any game this is all very general #im in grief if you couldnt tell

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borntolurk · 1 year ago

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OKAY SO I have a theory about the Aziraphale/Crowley relationship progression but it is going to have some pretty significant SPOILERS for E1-2 of Good Omens S2 so be warned!

By significant spoilers I mean that I will be describing some specific moments across both episodes (which I saw at the NYC screening).

Theory is below the line-

Alright, so as most people already know- I think from an interview- in the opening scene where Crowley and Aziraphale are both angels, Aziraphale notices Crowley before Crowley notices Aziraphale, and Aziraphale is clearly struck by Crowley. I don't know that I'd say "in love" but I think that it's somewhere in a range from "admiring" to "infatuated."

There are a lot of people theorizing about how that could possibly mesh with the S1 truism that Crowley fell fast for Aziraphale and Aziraphale kind of ignored him but I actually think it works perfectly well if you look at it this way:

Aziraphale fell for (for lack of a better term lol) the angel Crowley had been before.

So when he’d have seen Crowley in Eden, Crowley would recognize him as he looks exactly the same and really it's only been seven days, but Aziraphale would see a demon who COULDN’T POSSIBLY BE THE SAME BEING HE FELL FOR!

On rewatching the Eden scene, I think that Aziraphale does recognize Crowley as the angel who fell- he just doesn’t know his new name- and while obviously this is basically just me projecting back on performances that didn’t have ANY of this in mind, he seems very on edge when talking to Crowley. It’s like he knows EXACTLY what led Crowley to fall (asking questions and criticizing God), Crowley’s doing more of it now, seemingly to tempt Aziraphale into falling (especially now that he’s a demon and that’s what demons do, it’s what Crowley just did to Eve), and so Aziraphale is trying to be very careful. It’s why Aziraphale is so freaked out when Crowley points out that maybe he shouldn’t have given away the flaming sword, and that it wouldn’t be good if actually Aziraphale did do the bad thing and Crowley did the good.

Aziraphale needs to have done the good thing so that he doesn't fall and end up like Crowley, the angel who he fell for (figuratively....) and who has met this fate and turned into a totally different being! He’s seen exactly what happens when you’re a powerful and well meaning angel who just has some questions about god’s plans! I believe strongly that Aziraphale had believed that Crowley AS AN ANGEL was good and worth falling in love with, but that Crowley AS A DEMON is a different being who cannot be seen in the same way.

Then at the ark, its Aziraphale’s side that is doing the atrocity so it’s the typical defensiveness, continuing with the whole “well he’s a demon and even if I kind of agree with him he can’t be GOOD the way he was when he was an angel, and that means he must be bad and wrong even if his points make sense.” Crowley is a demon now, and demons are bad, even when they FEEL right- and if Aziraphale goes after his natural inclination which agrees with Crowley, especially if part of that is because he remembers what he felt about that angel of years ago, it just means that he's being tempted by a demon...

AND THEN we get to the Job minisode. I loved the minisode and so I'm hesitant to really spoil it but basically Crowley yo yos back and forth- first he seems very happy to do terrible things to Job, then it turns out he's been partially defying that order (which incidentally means going against God's plan, which is a VERY big problem for Aziraphale!), then he concocts a plan that requires Aziraphale, for good reason, to lie to the other angels, including some archangels, thereby counteracting God's plan. Afterward Aziraphale freaks out because he thinks that lying in order to trick Heaven and God means he’s fallen, and Crowley has to explain that that’s not how it works and comforts him.

Aziraphale is conflicted, of course, because Crowley is confusing and can't really win- on the one hand, it's bad if Crowley listens to God and kills Job's kids, but on the other hand it's bad if Crowley DOESN'T listen to God and DOESN'T kill Job's kids! So Aziraphale is expecting much more than Crowley is ever able to live up to- he's muddled about his purpose, and Aziraphale doesn't know how to interpret that.

I feel like this would kind of put the tin lid on it. Crowley is a different being now, one who may still have merciful qualities that Aziraphale likes and agrees with (and may remind Aziraphale of that angel of long ago) but is still a demon and against everything that Aziraphale is meant to stand for. And while the minisode ends with Aziraphale understanding that he's not quite like the other angels, he is still very clear- he is an angel and Crowley is a demon. They aren't just enemies, they are incompatible. The Crowley in front of him and the Crowley (or whatever his name was) that he remembers from heaven are different and he can't trust the one in front of him.

Because it feels like that's the main barrier here- Aziraphale can't trust Crowley. Crowley is a demon and his object is to tempt humanity to its downfall, even if Crowley himself isn't always so into that. Aziraphale may like Crowley, but it's against his better judgment- every bone in his body tells him not to trust him. He can't trust that Crowley's intentions are genuine- also in the minisode, Crowley tempts Aziraphale to try food (or as Gabriel would call it "gross matter") for the first time, and Aziraphale is somewhat disturbed by this in part because he knows that he is susceptible to Crowley's temptations! How can he trust after this that anything that Crowley does for him or says to him is done with good intentions rather than to bring him down from where he thinks he should be?

It's the Arrangement that ends up changing this. Having an agreement where they each do things for each other, each against their own better judgment, slowly but surely encourages Aziraphale to trust Crowley and his intentions. And it's during the Blitz, when Crowley puts himself in danger to help Aziraphale (danger that is specifically caused by the fact that Crowley IS a demon- otherwise the church would hold no danger), that Aziraphale really realizes that Crowley does have good intentions. He put himself at risk, which is the furthest thing from trying to get something for himself. This allows Aziraphale to trust Crowley that he really does need the holy water for a good reason, among other things later.

As you can tell, I don't actually think that Aziraphale has ever been oblivious to Crowley. He sees everything, but interprets it through his own mental lens. (The parallel that came to mind for me, weirdly, and you can ignore this if you've never seen the sitcom Frasier, but Daphne would have to be wearing massive blinkers not to know that Niles is into her- it's just that she doesn't recognize what kind of feelings he has because in her mind they are in two different worlds and so the idea that he could be genuinely interested is out of her comprehension.) To Aziraphale, Crowley is intriguing and kind and he's thought so since the beginning, but he's also dangerous. In fact that's what makes him dangerous!

Crowley is dangerous because there is so much about him to love, but he is a demon and therefore, in Aziraphale's worldview, unlovable. A demon can't love and be loved! And so Aziraphale is really also not just not trusting Crowley, but also not trusting HIMSELF. He has all these feelings about Crowley but he keeps saying that they're just Crowley tempting him or just residual feelings from the version of Crowley it WAS permissible to love, the angelic one.

I think that Crowley may genuinely be oblivious to anything Aziraphale is feeling, because in the opening scene he isn’t paying a tremendous amount of attention to Aziraphale, but I think he does grasp that Aziraphale doesn’t trust him and that’s what he’s working to change. He knows it's an uphill battle and the most important thing to do in order not just to change their relationship but to get Aziraphale out of his funk.

Now that they're both "on their own side," Aziraphale has a lot more understanding. He sees that just because Crowley is a demon it doesn't mean he is untrustworthy, and he realizes that each of them independently needs to make themselves worthy of trust and Crowley has done that again and again. And so it's almost natural for him to go back to those feelings that he had for that original angelic Crowley, but reinforced by everything he's learned since then- millennia of Crowley proving his ultimate goodness.

As a character in one of my favorite novels, Dorothy L Sayers's Gaudy Night, said of another character (paraphrased), "if I should once give way to him, I would go up like straw." And indeed she does. Aziraphale does too- once he opens himself to fully trust Crowley he can feel that sense of peace and security between them, and fall right into it, in a way that Crowley, who's been working so hard to establish it up until then, can't really. Crowley's been on edge for so long that he can't take anything for granted; Aziraphale can.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #go2spoilers #spoilers #gos2 spoilers

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